


Strong Woman Marinette Dupain-Cheng

by indefinitely



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Crimes & Criminals, Drama, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Mystery, Self-Indulgent, Strong Woman Do Bong Soon au, Where it starts off like SWDBS but ends up way different (or at least I hope so), aged up AU, gabriel isnt too hot either, lila is a crazy psycho bitch, much mystery much wow, sad luka hours
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2020-05-18 15:41:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 73,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19337536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indefinitely/pseuds/indefinitely
Summary: Marinette Dupain-Cheng is your ordinary 25-year old woman, save for one detail: She was born with super-strength. Knocking out beefy men is nothing more than child's play for Marinette. As great as it may sound, she wishes she didn't have this kind of curse. Then she might finally be able to get a job--not to mention that she wouldn't have to hide her freakish powers from her long-time crush, Luka Couffaine.CEO Adrien is considering a bodyguard to track down the person who's been threatening him for a month now, when he sees an unbelievably strong girl beat up gangsters without blinking. Perfect timing.The unlikely pair gets thrown together when Adrien hires Marinette to be his bodyguard. Things start to unravel as a kidnapping spree, Adrien's stalker, and both of their pasts begin to merge into one. (Adrinette endgame)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this started when i saw a bodyguard AU on tumblr, then i commented about it being like SWDBS, then i got completely carried away as i realized how greatly they can fit together... then i crafted my own plot and wrote 30,000 words before deciding hey, maybe i should publish this!
> 
> IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE DRAMA... you needn't have. In fact it may be a bit more fun if you haven't seen it.  
> IF YOU HAVE SEEN THE DRAMA... this fanfic will NOT follow the plot to a T. I've taken my own twist on it, so please... enjoy >:)
> 
> I hope y'all can enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it.  
> published on FF.net @indefinitelyaerequets and tumblr @aerequets

As the bus rolled in to the stop with the hiss of brakes, the crowd of kids waiting surged forward, each vying to be standing right where the bus would stop. Eventually, the vehicle ground to a halt, and the pushing began. When it came to the public bus and getting first seats, a group of waiting high schoolers was akin to a mob. Adrien found himself at the back of the group, but not unwillingly—he’d rather stand in a crowded bus than ruin his goods. He took a glance at the bouquet of flowers he held in his hand before clambering in and paying the bus fare. He felt a bit out of place, being the one homeschooled kid amongst a crowd of public school kids. From their loud chatter, he could tell that they all clearly knew each other. Maybe they were in the same circle.

He’d already risked a lot by coming here, so he couldn’t ruin anything. Ever since his mom died three years ago when he was 14 years old, his father turned into a cold husk of who he used to be. It almost seemed scripted, the way Gabriel took a 180 and began hating everything. He hated Adrien leaving the house, so tutors were brought in to provide Adrien with only the best, high-end education. He hated Adrien wearing bright clothing, so Adrien’s wardrobe became an array of muted grays and blacks with the occasional stripe of color. And Gabriel especially hated Adrien visiting his mother’s grave.

 _“Sentiments are a waste of time,”_ he would scorn. _“Once a year is enough. The rest is needless emotional stimulation.”_

The first time his father said that, Adrien wanted to believe that Gabriel was delusional. Maybe he had drunk one too many glasses of wine.

The next few times his father said that, Adrien’s initial attempts at justification were blown out of the window. In the end, they’d both changed: Gabriel went from appreciating every little thing, courtesy of his wife, to hating every little thing—again, courtesy of his wife. Or rather, the lack of her. Adrien went from trying to see the good in his father to just ignoring what he knew would disappoint him.

Adrien slouched in his seat a little and pulled his hood further over his head. He knew that he would be scolded harshly once he got home—maybe even worse. But he didn’t really care at the moment. He had already come too far to run back now. Cradling the bouquet to his chest so as to avoid any elbows or backpacks, Adrien made a beeline for the back of the bus, relieved to find an empty seat. He sat down and gingerly checked his white carnations, making sure no petals had been crushed. He could only bring the best to his mom.

The bus rumbled to a start after the last stragglers had boarded. Adrien drifted off in his thoughts, watching streets, buildings and people pass by through the window. _It’s been really long since I last visited you, Mom. Two months? Three? Sorry about that. I’ve been really busy…_

In his one-sided, silent conversation with his mom, Adrien leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes. The chatter dulled into white noise. The jerky movements of the bus gained rhythm, and he could feel his breathing slow. Several moments—or possibly many minutes, he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference—passed like that, him in the oddly comforting milieu of the public bus.

Adrien’s eyes snapped open right as the bus lurched violently. People were just beginning to murmur worriedly when the bus suddenly swerved. Students were thrown to the ground and the air was permeated with sounds of shrieks and thudding bodies in an instant. People were thrown side to side as the bus veered haphazardly on the road, honking at cars and passengers. The bus driver shouted in a panic, “The brakes won’t work!”

 A wayward leg belonging to a mystery passenger managed to strike the carnations out of Adrien’s hand. Adrien felt his body being thrown and a shout escaped him unintended as his head slammed against the edge of the seat. Vaguely, he registered his teeth clamping down on his lips and feeling something wet trickle down his chin; but the pounding of his heart and the chaos in the bus drowned out any twinge of pain he should have felt. An agitated pulse ran throughout him, making him shake on the floor of the bus and break out in a cold sweat. His vision whitened and strained at the edges. An awful ringing started up in his ears that lead him to squeeze his eyes shut with vigor, waiting for the noise to subside.

It was because he was so focused on removing himself from the nightmareish moment that he only registered the blank silence seconds into it. Slowly, Adrien opened his eyes and let them refocus before pushing himself up on shaky arms.

He was the first one to move on the entire bus. When he raised his head, he saw belongings that had mattered so much to the students just seconds prior flung across the length of the bus. Several windows were cracked, but other than that, there didn’t seem to be any casualties. All the passengers, and the bus driver, just seemed like they were in shock. Adrien was pretty sure he was, too. People began moving from their places on the ground, groaning in pain.

Adrien caught sight of the scene outside the window. The bus was precariously close to the edge of a bride, the railings already having been knocked off from sheer force of impact. When he peered closer, he could see a mother standing right next to the wheel of the smoking vehicle, tightly clutching a child’s head to her chest.

The bus hadn’t fallen off of the bridge. Nobody inside the vehicle was injured seriously. And the pedestrians, who appeared to have been right in the path of the bus, were unharmed too.

If Adrien didn’t know better, he’d think this was a miracle.

He caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye and spun to look out the back window. What he saw made him lean forward to press against the glass, wide-eyed. It was enough to chase away any of the numbness that the shock had brought.

Surely the person had to be some sort of angel. _My mom sent an angel to protect me._ A figure cloaked in an oversized red hoodie, spotted with black circles, turned away from the scene and began walking away. Adrien hadn’t seen anything, yet somehow—somehow he _knew_ that whoever that person was, they had to have done something. As if willing them to stay, Adrien pressed even closer on the glass, half-debating calling out even though he knew they wouldn’t hear.

As if they could hear feel his stare, they began to turn. A breeze blew and began to peel the hood away from their face. Now Adrien could make out faint features. A girl, it was definitely a girl. Just a little more—if she would just turn a little—and if the wind blew a little harder, he could see—

**_RRRRRRRING!_ **

Adrien’s eyes snapped open to darkness. It took him a few seconds to process what was going on through the sleepy haze clouding his mind, but when he finally understood, he groaned tiredly.

“I was so close!” He complained. With a cross expression, Adrien fumbled for his phone that was still ringing loudly on his bedside drawer. When he made out the numbers on the bright screen through a squint, his scowl deepened further.

“Great,” he muttered. “I’ll be bugged all night if I don’t pick up. Seriously, they do midnight now, too?” The number was unfamiliar, but gut instinct told Adrien that this was who had been harassing him for a while now. He jabbed at the ‘accept call’ button and put the phone to his ear. “What do you want?”

Like he’d been expecting, a distorted voice spoke from the other end. “Cancel the upcoming release of your new video game. Or else you will—“

“ _Or else I will die_ ,” Adrien snarked. Sleep-deprivation made him no less sarcastic—especially when it came to _these_ assholes. Whoever they were. “Threaten me some other time when I’ll actually be awake enough to be scared.”

“If you don’t cancel the event and delete the files, we’ll ruin your company—“

“Go to hell!” Adrien barked into the phone, thoroughly fed up. “Do you think I care about that right now? Let me get my sleep!” With that, he shut his phone off and tossed it over the edge of his bed.

“Bastards,” Adrien growled, still simmering with anger even after hanging up on them. He was even more ticked off than usual thanks to his dream getting interrupted. Even though he knew that the part he wanted to see was over, and that it’d probably skip to the next, less desirable scene of his father yelling  at him for getting into a dangerous situation, he still wanted to hang on to the hope that maybe his subconscious had buried the face of his savior. Somewhere, deep in his mind, her face was there. It had to be.

 The face of Ladybug from 8 years ago.

With a sigh, Adrien tried to readjust himself in bed. When he finally fell asleep again a long while later, his dreams were empty.

…

Upon waking up, the first thing Marinette did was check her phone. She’d been doing so for two weeks. The cycle was as such: wake up, roll over, grab phone from bedside table, and check.  Today, what she’d been waiting two weeks for had finally popped up in her notifications bar.

_Re: Job Application for Character Design and Development. Chat Noir Games Inc._

Marinette gasped. The device slipped from her hand and slapped onto her face. “Ow!” Marinette picked her phone back up and rubbed her nose while staring at the message, slowly feeling the anticipation that had been building up for the past two weeks begin to ebb away.

If it was anyone else, they’d be excited to see if they got in. Chat Noir Games was a big company, and a job—especially in Character Design and Development—meant a solid income. Not to mention that their workplace was notorious for being interesting and filled with all types of eccentric gadgets. But Marinette already had an inkling as to what the reply to her application said.

She swiped on the message and was met with exactly what she expected. _We are sorry to inform you that…_

Expecting it didn’t make her gut sink any less. “Twenty-five years old and I can’t land a solid job.” Marinette sighed and climbed down the stairs of her loft bed, plopping into her cushy computer chair right underneath instead. It wasn’t a matter of her work ethic being bad or anything like that. In fact, Marinette would hardly say it was her fault at all. Over the course of four years, she’d tried out a whopping total of 17 different jobs, none of which suited her, to say the least.

She booted up her computer and navigated straight to her resume.

Empty.

 _Well,_ smart-alecks would always tell her, _you should try filling your application out past the introduction. Maybe_ that _will make companies want to hire you, eh?_

Marinette glared at the offending resume. “And what am I supposed to fill in? ‘My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I’m from Paris, France. I used to try being a designer, but after my super-strength destroyed half my projects and I had half a mind to obliterate the assholes in the industry, I decided to stop. I don’t really have any qualifications. In fact, the only reason I’m doing Character Design and Development is because it’s the closest thing to designing that I can do without showing off the super-strength that the women in my family inherit.’” Marinette paused. “Dammit, I monologued again.” With another long-suffering sigh, Marinette dropped her head against the desk. “Cursed super-strength…”

If anyone had heard her, they’d probably suggest a mental asylum, or, more kindly, for her to stop daydreaming. Unfortunately, what she said had been only the truth. In the Chinese side of her family, dating back to even the early 1700’s, the women—and only the women—of her family were born with herculean strength. It was said that these women used this sort of power in rebellions and wars to crush their enemies. One would think that such power would be great—I mean, _duh_ —but sadly, it had its ups and downs just like every other miserable thing in life.

Personally, Marinette didn’t care to be strong. She’d have been perfectly happy being average. It wasn’t  like there were wars that she needed to fight in or anything. Then she could have pursued her early dreams of becoming a fashion designer… but alas, delicate work with pins and needles just didn’t mix with brute force.

There was always the option of misusing her power. In her family, the women who used their powers for anything other than good were stripped of their strength. However, Marinette did have morals of her own. That, and the misuse of power not only lead to your powers being taken away, but some sort of karmic payback that sounded too scary to risk. Marinette’s great-grandma from her mom’s side, Jiayi Cheng, once used her powers to beat someone up. She had explosive diarrhea for a month following that incident. Needless to say, it was the last time she ever got to use her power.

Accidentally hurting someone innocent with your powers could get rid of them without some synergistic punishment. Marinette only knew this because this was what had happened to her mom. Sabine had been doing a part-time job of moving loads from trucks shortly after moving to France to make some quick money while she was in college. One day, she accidentally dropped a 200 pound bag of flour she was moving on a man’s foot, subsequently breaking it. That man had been her dad. He forgave her—obviously, seeing as they were married now (talk about a meet cute, right?)—but Sabine was an average person the very next day, despite having no issues like explosive diarrhea. However, Marinette knew that her mom didn’t experience any fallout only because the incident had been truly unintentional. Marinette couldn’t fabricate an accident because that would just be misusing her powers.

So, Marinette was stuck being like this. Added to her natural clumsiness and she was quite literally a walking disaster. This made it hard for her to do any job. The most fitting job she’d ever done was farming, and even that flunked when she lifted a tractor out of a ditch with her bare hands and ended up causing a granny watching nearby to faint. Even the cows had seemed spooked.

Marinette sulked as she navigated to Chat Noir Games’ website. She hadn’t ever wanted a job as much as she’d wanted this one. Character Development and Design at that company had become her new dream. Working in that department at that gaming company would have been the perfect solution for her to use the creativity and strength that fashion designing couldn’t handle. She also had a passion for gaming—their games especially, including Ultimate Mecha Strike, one of her favorite all time series.

 Even though she’d known from the get-go what the result would be, it was still a bigger let down than usual.

“I guess I’ll work in this bakery forever, and live in this room forever,” Marinette mourned. She got up from her chair in a drained state despite having just woken up and began to get ready to look around for new jobs.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My updating schedule will be every Saturday probably, maybe 2 times a week, but since I want a kickstart past the introduction and get things really rolling here is chapter 2 :DD
> 
> THANK YOU all for such good reception, it makes me feel tingly (in a good way)

One of the great things about being the CEO of a big company was that Adrien could do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted.

This was why he was currently hoverboarding through the park instead of working in his office. Being homeschooled, locked in a house and controlled until he legally escaped and cut himself off left him with simple desires.

With Ultimate Mecha Strike 3—the newest installation of the ever-popular video game series—being released in a week, the office was slowly dissolving into chaos. Granted, the atmosphere at Chat Noir was generally destructive, but before the release of a new game there was always some sort of cataclysmic energy crackling in the air, just waiting to mess things up. Things needed to be on their A-game. So, in order to stress his employees out a little less, Adrien decided to step out. He could only imagine what having your boss breathing down your neck while you work would feel like. Decidedly not good, if it was anything like when his father used to breath down his neck.

The park was mostly empty, which was expected seeing as it was a Tuesday morning. Save for a few parents watching their kids play in the far-off playground with their kids, runners taking a jog on the path or people throwing sticks to their dogs on the grass, there was no one.

So why did it feel like he was being watched?

Adrien turned on his hoverboard as inconspicuously as possible and scanned his surroundings. A few seconds of sweeping with his eyes showed him what he was looking for. Tucked away behind a tree, a suspicious-looking man in black had a device pointed in Adrien’s direction.

Adrien stepped off of the board, trying to make his movements natural so as to not alert the man. However, a few seconds later, the man backed away from the tree and started across the street.

Adrien fast-walked after him. The man took one glance behind his back, saw Adrien, and broke out into a run.

“Dammit!” Adrien abandoned his hoverboard behind him and sprinted after him as best as he could. Despite the chilly weather, Adrien soon felt his body heating up beneath his white turtleneck and brown overcoat.

His target made it across the street and ducked and weaved his way around garbage cans set in front of houses, knocking one behind him in order to stall Adrien. Undeterred, Adrien jumped over it and pressed on. Soon they crossed over into the marketplace, where people were just beginning to open stores. Adrien felt a sliver of panic set in. _If I don’t catch him now I’ll lose him!_ With that thought, he tried his best to speed up even more. He was right at the man’s heels and just began to extend his arm to grab onto his jacket—his fingers brushed against the cloth—

The man disappeared. Adrien stumbled forward, barely catching himself in time, and immediately straightened to whip his head around. He was panting like crazy and his coat was falling off one shoulder, but he didn’t care enough to fix it. _Where did he go?_

The perpetrator to the target’s escape presented itself to Adrien. The open mouth of a narrow alleyway, squeezed between two buildings, made itself apparent and Adrien groaned, wiping sweat off of his forehead. He had been so focused on grabbing the man’s jacket that he didn’t even notice it.

Adrien was positive that whoever that man was, he had something to do with the threats he’d been getting recently. Someone was watching him constantly in order to make their moves… and he’d just missed the opportunity to catch them once and for all.

“I really need a bodyguard or something,” Adrien muttered. He had yet to get one because the experience of having a bodyguard while living in his father’s home had been generally unpleasant, even if the bodyguard himself wasn’t a bad guy. Adrien just didn’t like being unable to have privacy. But hiring a bodyguard on his own meant he pulled the strings.

Adrien was still considering the idea of a bodyguard as he walked through the marketplace again to go back to his office, when he heard a distant shout. “ _HEY!”_

Adrien paused and turned his head towards the noise. It didn’t seem like anyone else in the area had heard, but then again, Adrien had exceptional hearing. After a moment of consideration, Adrien changed route and walked towards where he’d heard the noise. It took a bit of zigzagging through alleyways, but soon a road opened up. At the end, he could see a school bus stopped in the middle of the road because of a large truck blocking the way.

Adrien snuck closer. He didn’t want to become a part of whatever commotion was going on, but he was still curious. When he peered around the school bus, he saw a foul sight.

A man in a gray suit kicked at an old man on the ground. Nearby, another man, similarly dressed to his lackey, sneered at a girl a head shorter. She was gesturing at a broken device that lay between them, looking angry.

“Compensate me,” she demanded. The man scoffed, and she repeated, “Compensate me! Do you know how much this phone costed?”

He sneered. “Then you shouldn’t have tried to call the police.” With the tip of his shoe, he kicked away the phone, making the screen splinter even more as it rubbed against the concrete road. He began messing around and slapping her head.

Adrien looked around. “Where are the police? Geez, they really are useless.” He slipped out his own phone and dialed 112. “Hello? Yeah, there seems to be some sort of truck blocking the road… two men are harassing an old guy and a lady. I think the old guy is a bus driver—there’s a school bus here too. Kids in the bus? Let me check…” Adrien walked to the side of the bus and peered through the windows. “Yeah, there are kids. They…” Adrien stopped. All the kids were suddenly pressing against the windows, pointing and staring gape-mouthed at something behind him. Adrien turned around and very nearly dropped his phone.

“And this is for beating that poor old man up!” The girl sunk both of her fists into the guts of the men who had been tormenting her and the bus driver just moments prior. Spit flew out of their (oddly, suddenly gap-toothed) mouths as their bodies were punted back like a ragdolls, sailing through the air in opposite directions almost comically until their backs connected with walls. Two sickening cracks resounded at the contact. They slid down simultaneously, revealing fissures in the walls where their bodies had connected.

“Hello? Sir? Is everything alright? Sir, where are you?” The operator’s voice prodded at him from the other side of the phone. Adrien snapped back to attention, realizing his mouth had been hanging wide open, and pressed the phone to his ear once again. Adrien quickly listed off the address of the construction site and hung up, returning his attention to the scene before him. The kids were cheering now, even as gangsters dressed in construction wear—around 9 or 10—appeared from the woodwork. Adrien’s mouth dropped open again. _There’s no way she can handle this._

It turned out that she totally could—probably with her hands tied behind her back. All it took for her to render the men wasted was a slam to the ground with both of her palms. The simple movement sent rocks blowing out of the ground, sweeping all of the men back with one movement. The few ever-persistent ones who had managed to outlast the rock attack were quickly taken out by the lady herself. For one man all she had to do was flick his forehead, and he was out like a light.

“This has gotten way out of hand,” she muttered even as she bent a man’s wrist backwards. He screamed pathetically and dropped to his knees with her still holding on to his wrist. “How annoying.” The kids on the bus cheered even louder at the blunt justice being served. Apparently children loved gore.

Adrien couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Was this some sort of prank? Or a staged show? Maybe there were cameras on him right now, recording his reaction. That lady was going to turn around, look at him and start laughing before introducing herself as an actress for the TV show he was secretly on. Right?

“Who _is_ she?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is chapter 3! I have finally decided that my update schedule will be Fridays and Tuesdays.  
> Enjoy :-)

Adrien found himself at the police station anyways despite cutting the phone call off. Technically he didn’t need to be there because nobody knew he was a witness, but he just couldn’t wrap his head around what he had seen. He was too curious.

The problem was, Adrien vastly disliked the police. Part of it was that they couldn’t identify how his mother had mysteriously died, nor had they tried all those years ago; but Adrien also knew how easily they could be corrupt and fail to uphold the justice that they were supposed to protect. Adrien had seen his fair share of rich, greedy and manipulative assholes, and nothing angered him more. So no, Adrien didn’t want to be at the station… but at the same time he needed answers. It was like fighting two battles inside himself, but finally, with great reluctance, he stepped inside.

His trusty ears were instantly met with a commotion. Following the noise, Adrien took a turn in the hallway and saw the girl from before standing in front of a door labeled “Special Crimes: Unit 3”, where the commotion was coming from. She didn’t seem fazed by it, though, as she talked to herself—seemingly a pep talk.

As Adrien got a better look at her face, he felt something inside him turn. For some reason she struck a chord within him, but he couldn’t pinpoint why exactly. She was an enigma.

She opened the door, took a peek inside and immediately closed it again, seemingly out of breath. Collecting herself, she began practicing greetings, much to Adrien’s confusion.

An enigma for sure.

“’Hey, Luka, it’s been a while,’” she practiced with a smile. Her face dropped and she shook her head. “No, are you crazy? You’re going to be in a room full of thugs. ‘Coincidence running into you here!’” She smacked her forehead. “Ugh, that’s even worse!”

Adrien watched, agog. “What is she doing?” Her practicing went on for a few more moments before she gathered enough courage to open the door up again. She timidly made her way inside and Adrien followed stealthily, peeking inside from the doorway.

The room had two large windows to let in light during the day. It was quite large in order to fit in all the desks, cabinets and screens that one would expect in a Special Crimes office, but currently it was filled to the brim with an equal amount of thugs and kindergarteners. Every single thug was wrapped in bandages and each had a cast on a various part of their body. Their faces were blotted black and blue as well. They looked like a bunch of bruised fruit.

“Ah, Marinette! Come on over.” A man sitting at a desk near the back window beckoned to her. He must have had some semblance of authority, but he didn’t wear the police uniform vest that some of the men inside the room wore. Instead he seemed to be wearing normal streetwear: black leather jacket, dark gray shirt and dark blue jeans. Adrien surmised that he must be a detective.

At her name, the group of bickering thugs that had been causing the commotion recoiled in fear. Marinette strode over as gracefully as she could and sat on the edge of the seat, crossing her legs.

“Hello,” she said sweetly. Several of the gangsters started shivering at her tone. Luka smiled back at Marinette while he entered her information in the system, clicking away at the computer in front of him.

“Alright, almost done here. Address… 12 Rue Gotlib, 21st arrondissement,” he mumbled from memory as he typed in Marinette’s address. Marinette suppressed a happy sigh.

“I’m sure you know why you’re here, but I have to retell it for the sake of formalities. After someone reported the situation on the road with the school bus, truck, you, and all of these men, the police came and brought all of you in, which is why you’re here. Yes?”

Marinette grinned dreamily, enjoying Luka’s voice too much to be as serious as she should have been. “For sure.”

Unfazed, Luka continued. “Here’s what I have. According to the school bus driver, the truck was blocking the road. When he got out and asked them to move the truck, they refused. When the bus driver tried to report to the police, he was attacked and beaten. And then, according to these men—“ Luka gestured to the ragtag group. “—you came along and tried to report as well. Your phone was taken out of your hand and broken. From this, there was a dispute where you asked for compensation. They refused and began to slap you, when you countered with a slap of your own.” Luka paused, reading over the next line of the report incredulously. “Your slap caused moderate injuries to both men, where both lost four teeth and one fractured his jaw.”

Marinette sunk into her seat.

“Furthermore,” Luka pressed on, sounding more and more disbelieving, “you sent two men flying thirty meters into two walls, which caused fractures to their necks and spines. You fractured one man’s wrist and five fingers by bending his hand backwards. Six men were knocked out by rocks that you sent flying from the ground, and one man has a concussion from when you flicked his forehead.” Luka finally finished the report, meeting Marinette’s eyes. “Does this make any sense to you?”

With each word that came out of Luka’s mouth, Marinette grew more and more shamefaced. She opened her mouth to refute the claims, but found herself struggling. “You see… that’s…”

Luka met Marinette’s eyes with a level gaze and beckoned her closer to whisper in her ear. “Listen, the kindergartener’s testimonies don’t hold any legal power. And they don’t make sense, either. The problem is with the bus driver’s testimony. You’ll need a proper witness on your side if you don’t want to get prosecuted for the use of excessive force.”

Marinette’s face looked a bit pale. “I—“

“Come on now.” All heads in the room turned towards the new voice, a neatly dressed young man with blond hair and piercing green eyes. He leaned against the doorframe casually, as if he weren’t in a police station. His gaze swept over all the persons in the room before finally resting on Luka. “Are you really going to believe that fictional report?”

Luka furrowed his eyebrows. “Who are you?”

“A—achoo!” Adrien suddenly sneezed. An awkward silence lulled in the room. Clearing his throat and stepping further away from the gangsters who had made him sneeze for some reason, he repeated, “A witness. I’m the one who called the police.”

Murmurs spread through the room at that. “Oh, a witness.”

Walking forward, he knelt in front of the group of kindergarteners, lifting up a finger to reprimand them. “You know, you shouldn’t make up stories. It would be great to be strong enough to beat ten men, but that’s just not how it is in real life.”

One particularly bold child spoke up. “It’s not made up! We saw her push the bad guys away and they flied back!” The group of injured gangsters spoke up in affirmation.

“Yeah, you see that!”

“Kids don’t lie!”

“Kids these days watch too many superhero movies,” Adrien chided.

“You say you’re a witness?” Luka interrupted. He eyed Adrien. “Lying to the police is punishable by law. Will you still tell what happened as an eyewitness?”

“Yes. My testimony is obviously going to be different from the bus driver’s,” Adrien pointed out. “He was a victim and missed the whole picture, as well as having his own trauma. I saw it as an outsider, so I can provide the most accurate telling.”

“Then what happened?”

Adrien paused for dramatic effect, meeting Luka’s gaze with wide eyes and leaning forward as if he was going to divulge a secret. Finally, he spoke with an expressive look on his face, eyebrows raised. “They fought amongst themselves.”

The second the last word left his lips, the entire room burst into an uproar. The seething and shouting group of men had to be held back by several members of the crime unit while the kindergartener’s indignant voice rose higher in pitch. “It was the lady,” the same child insisted. “She did that to them!” Luka narrowed his eyes, looking skeptical.

Hampered, Adrien glanced around and thought quickly. He grabbed the nearest book he could and showed it to the child. “Can you tell me what this says?” When he was met with silence, and then a shake of the head, he straightened up and looked to Luka meaningfully.

“Like I said, kids watch too many superhero movies. They’re very imaginative, but we can’t trust their testimony when they can’t even read, can we?”

Luka still looked apprehensive. The unit chief, who had been holding the angry men back, spoke up in agreement.

“It makes no sense that one woman beat up all of these men, without a weapon nonetheless,” he said. The gangsters caused a fuss again.

“She _did!_ ”

“Hey!” The chief snapped at them, adjusting his cap over red hair. “What do you want me to do to you guys, huh? You’re not innocent either! Should I put you away in jail?”

“That’s not fair!”

“It’s called justice, you gangsters!” The bickering rose up into a commotion again.

“This whole thing is weird,” Luka frowned. “All these kids wouldn’t be saying the same thing if it didn’t happen.”

“But it’s preposterous,” Chief Roger argued back, ignoring the yelling men behind him. “How can this woman have strength enough to beat up all these men? Just wrap it up however you can. This is honestly ridiculous and I’ll get fired if this goes to the higher ups.”

Luka took a look at Marinette, who was peeking up at him hopefully through her lashes, and relented. “I guess you’re right.” He walked around his desk and helped Marinette up. “Be careful of situations like these, Marinette. Don’t get into trouble.”

Sending him moonbeams and heart eyes (not that he noticed), Marinette smiled beatifically. “Of course. I definitely won’t.”

Adrien shoved his hands in his pockets, nodding in satisfaction at the scene before him. The gangsters had to be escorted outside forcefully, their angry declarations going unheard. The bus driver and children, too, began to gather themselves in order to leave. “My work is done here.” As he walked back, though, he couldn’t help but wonder what the situation that he’d seen had really been about. Lying to the police might have helped Marinette out, but he didn’t have any more answers than before. In fact, he was more curious than before. Luka, who obviously knew Marinette personally, didn’t know about her super strength. What the heck was that all about?

When he went outside, he found his secretary, Plagg, waiting for him. He still wore his work clothes—which, for him, went nothing past an untucked button up with sleeves rolled up and jeans instead of sweats. He looked equal parts cross and confused.

“Don’t even tell me why you’re here.”

“It’s not what you think,” Adrien supplied. “I came here on my own.”

 Plagg raised an eyebrow. “ _You_ came to a police station? Of your own free will?” He craned his neck up to look at the sky. “Hmm, no flying pigs. What’s going on here?”

Adrien rolled his eyes. “Alright already. I’ve had a long morning, so let’s just go back.” Just at that moment, though, he saw Marinette exit the police station and changed his mind. “Hey!”

She turned and stared at him. Stupidly, he thought, _Wow. Her eyes are really blue._

“What?”

Adrien snapped out of his mini-reverie. He shot her a look. “Aren’t you going to thank me? I just saved you back there.” To his surprise, she made a face. Plagg expertly hid a snort behind a cough.

“Thanks, I guess?” She answered, not sounding thankful at all. “But you lied in a police station. To a policeman.”

Adrien sent her another look, incredulous this time. “I saved you from prosecution!”

Without missing a beat, she retorted, “If you’d taken action instead of just being a witness, then you wouldn’t have had to lie.” With that, she strode off. Adrien’s eyes followed her in a disbelieving glare.

Plagg whistled. “I guess people really _do_ have different moral codes. You doing okay there?”

Adrien couldn’t believe it. She was so insufferable! So ungrateful! So… so…!

“So amazing,” he breathed. Plagg did a double-take at that, almost choking on his own spit.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! I might even go up to updating 3 times a week because I've written a lot already (25 chapters and with comic sans... whoo boy). We'll see.  
> Also, because of problems with Tumblr formatting it's not on Tumblr anymore. I can't figure out how to post it on there Q_Q
> 
> Anyway, enjoy this chapter! Things are still light, but we'll pick up soon >:)

Marinette opened the door to the family bakery, trudging inside. Her mom was at the cash register, ringing up some customers while her dad was no doubt working in the kitchen. Lunch hour hadn’t hit yet, so the bakery was fairly empty. Sabine looked up from what she was doing and spotted Marinette.

“Ah, there you are!” She handed the customers their change and bagged their bread. “Where have you been?”

Marinette played with a lock of her hair. “Just out.” She didn’t feel like telling her mom that she’d ended up going to the police station and almost got prosecuted.

“So I take it you failed to find a job again.”

“Mom!” Marinette hissed, vaguely gesturing towards the customers that were standing right between them. “Not so loud!”

“They’re regulars here. They know everything,” Sabine pointed out bluntly. She smiled and waved as the people left. “Goodbye! Come again soon!”

Marinette covered her reddening face with her hands. “Ugh… it’s still embarrassing,” she whined. Sabine offered Marinette a sympathetic look.

“Sorry, dear. We’ve got some walnuts in the back, by the way.”

“Alright,” Marinette sighed. She went to take the bowl of walnuts from the kitchen, kissing her dad’s cheek as a greeting. He was busy assembling a croquembouche, so thankfully he didn’t ask Marinette too many questions. She took the bowl to their living room upstairs and plopped down to start her work. One by one, she cracked the walnut shells open between two fingers. While she did that, she mulled over her day.

The situation with the gangsters had gotten totally out of hand. Even worse, she’d basically shown off her powers to a whole slew of people. All of her hard work hiding her powers had just gone to waste. There was also that unexpected witness.

“What’s with him?” Marinette wondered out loud. Why would he lie for her sake? They didn’t even know each other.  In any case, Marinette didn’t appreciate anybody lying to Luka’s face. Even if she’d escaped from a pickle because of that, Luka was very passionate about being a detective and took his job very seriously, so lying to him made it feel like she was undermining his efforts.

But speaking of Luka…

Marinette squealed. “At least I got to see him today. Good thing I didn’t say something stupid. I’m definitely past my _lycée_ ways. Wow, he looked so cool!” Marinette stopped when she felt something greasy on her fingers. Looking down, she realized that she’d accidentally ground a walnut into a paste between her fingers, shell and all.

“I guess it’s a good thing that guy lied,” Marinette mumbled as she wiped her fingers on a paper towel. “Luka would probably be freaked out if he found out about my powers… and that I ended up actually beating up all those men.” An unsettling feeling creeped into Marinette’s stomach. The more she thought about it…

“Oh no,” she whispered. “Does this count as misusing my powers?” Well, she _did_ use it to beat people up, but—“Nah.” Marinette shook her head, trying to rid herself of the thought. They were bad guys, so it didn’t count as misuse, right?

The anxious feeling didn’t leave no matter how much Marinette tried to justify it. After a few seconds of internal debate, Marinette abandoned the walnuts and retreated to her room to be alone with her apprehension.

…

The next morning, Plagg greeted Adrien with a huge stack of resumes slapped onto his desk.

Outside of Adrien’s personal office, the rest of the building was chaos. People were either running around or glued to their computers, making the changes that Ultimate Mecha Strike 3 needed for its final polished version. On a large whiteboard, “D-6 UNTIL GAME RELEASE” was written in bold with various notes scribbled around. Desks were littered with empty takeout boxes and most employees looked like they hadn’t slept or showered for days. Or both. The place bore resemblance to a zombie apocalypse. Adrien’s neat, expansive glass-walled room with bookshelves, armchairs, a flat screen and his personal desk at the back was the eye of the storm.

On the other hand, Plagg was absolutely thriving. The more chaotic energy there was, the better he fared and looked. Today he’d even gone through the pain of parting his hair and shaving, so he looked like a real secretary instead of a bum.  

“I sent out requests for bodyguards like you asked,” Plagg drawled. “I have to say, you’ve been doing some weird things lately. First the police station, and now _you_ of all people want a bodyguard? It’s great to be able to witness history.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Adrien dismissed. He scanned through the first few resumes uninterestedly. _10 years experience in taekwondo… a fifth degree black belt in judo… someone who’d gone around the world to study from various martial arts masters…_

_But are any of them super strong?_

Adrien thought back to Marinette. He _still_ couldn’t get her out of his mind, and it frustrated him. He was still so curious and wanted answers. The image of her slamming rocks out of the ground with her palms invaded his mind and he got an idea.

“Hey, remember the girl from yesterday?”

Plagg, who was about to leave, turned back to look at Adrien. He had a smug smirk on his face. “Oh, yeah. I think she’s very _amazing._ ”

Ignoring the jab, Adrien straightened up, pushing the stack of resumes away. “I want you to find her. I’m going to hire her as my bodyguard.”

**_half an hour later_ **

“You want a citizen’s personal information?”

All Plagg had done was ask the man a question, but with the way the police officer said that and how he was looking at him, one would think that Plagg admitted to murder.

“Contact information,” Plagg corrected nonchalantly. “There’s a difference.”

“I can’t give you that,” Luka denied flat-out. “According to Article 60 of the Government Officials Act a policeman isn’t allowed to give out any confidential information during or after employment.” He leaned back and crossed his arms.

Plagg took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and then opened them. _Time for the Look_ _™._ Usually when Plagg was doing _negotiations_ (ahem, if you could even call it that) and things weren’t going his way, he would give the opposing party his signature Look™. It was just a little bit of glare and a little bit of angling his head, but his expression paired with his electric-green eyes was usually enough to get the job done. “You sure about that?”

Luka nodded with 100% certainty. “Please leave now.”

Plagg’s eyebrows rose. Impressed, he stood up. “Respect.”

…

Adrien took out his ringing phone from his pocket. It’d only been half an hour, but Plagg was already calling. Picking up, he asked, “How’d it go?”

“ _Yeah, so he said no. Sucks.”_

“Did you even try to get it from him?”

“ _I asked, and he said no. Who am I to insist? He was pretty rigid about it.”_

“Really?” Most of the time Plagg was able to accomplish anything with his Look™. If he couldn’t get it done, then chances were that the policeman really was serious about his job. Huh—maybe there were still decent police out there. “What was his name?”

“ _His placard said Luka Couffaine. Anyways, I’m gonna have my second breakfast now. There’s a camembert sandwich calling my name. Ciao.”_ With that, Plagg hung up.

Adrien pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at Plagg’s contact in exasperation. Plagg was the only employee who would dare hang up on his CEO and boss like that. But Plagg was really good at his job, and more than just a secretary, so Adrien had little choice in the matter. Sometimes it felt like Plagg was the boss, actually.

“Luka Couffaine, huh?” He recognized that name. Wasn't that the one who knew Marinette?

…

“Oh, yes,” the chief of the police department of Paris, Bob Roth, laughed heartily as he took a sip of his coffee. “Luka really is something else. He’s normally the most laid back person you’ll know but takes a complete 180 in the office.”

Adrien had met up with Bob in order to get what he needed. Bob and Adrien’s father had a… comradeship, of sorts, so naturally Bob’s graces extended to Adrien. In other words, Bob had taken bribes from Gabriel in the past any time legal works came up. Adrien couldn’t find it in himself to like the guy.

“What a proper cop,” Adrien remarked.

“What?” When Adrien didn’t respond, Bob changed route. “What do you need the girl’s number for anyway?”

“She’s interesting,” Adrien vaguely responded. Bob took it another way and chuckled.

“Oh, how great it is to be young. You need her number for your youthful conquests, eh?”

“You could put it like that.” If employing the strongest person he’d ever seen as his bodyguard and trying to find out the mystery behind her super-strength counted as a ‘youthful conquest’, that is.

Bob took another sip of his coffee. “Gabriel is doing well, I presume?”

“Of course.” Adrien’s smile tightened. “You’ve been helping him out in many ways, after all.”

Missing the implications, Bob set down his cup and chuckled again. “I’m so proud that you managed to build your own company without your father’s help. But you know, you can’t achieve past certain a point without help.” Adrien laughed at that, refraining from saying ‘ _You’d know lots about that, right?’_.

Being tight-lipped paid off in the end as Adrien walked out of the police station (all too happy to get out) with a number scribbled on a scrap of paper.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late thursday... friday... same thing. Also, Happy 4th of July (that still applies) to all my USA readers! :)
> 
> Things are still in the introductory stage. I'm more antsy to get this out on website than any of you people... lmaoo.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!!! Don't hesitate to leave reviews. I love having things to read in my inbox! :D

“Alright,” Plagg said, cracking his mouth open in a large yawn. “Let’s get this over with. I need my afternoon nap.”

Marinette eyed the man sitting in front of her. He looked professional, but acted the opposite with the way he was sitting. He looked close to slinging his leg across the back of his chair. Then again, she couldn’t really find it in herself to argue with him. She, too, valued a good nap.

“Food’s here.” A waitress carrying a platter with their orders stopped by and set their food in front of them. Upon looking over at Plagg’s plate, Marinette realized that they’d both ordered the Camembert Pesto special sandwich.

“You also like Camembert?” She asked. Plagg noticed her plate and straightened in his seat.

“Whoa,” he uttered. “What a cool kid you are. Maybe the runt had half a mind when he wanted to hire you.”

“Is that what this is about?” Marinette asked, picking the sandwich up to take a bite. “I mean, I got your call about a job interview, but I don’t really understand why me.”

“Well, Adrien personally recommended you. He said that he wanted _you_ to be his bodyguard,” Plagg replied. He picked his sandwich up and shoved the whole thing in his mouth. Marinette watched with rapt attention as a large chunk moved down his gullet. She shuddered, waiting for him to choke, but the moment never came. After a few moments of lip-smacking, Plagg continued, “So I’m here to interview you.”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” Marinette said. She set down her sandwich. Taking a deep breath, she listed off her reasons. “You see, your CEO seems kind of shady, what with the lying at the police station. Also, I prefer jobs that let me to use my creativity and brains more than just my physical strength. And I already have a dream company in mind.” Finally she exhaled, picked her food back up and took a bite.

Even Plagg seemed a little speechless. Marinette finished chewing and concluded, “So I won’t be working with you people. Sorry.” She got up with the sandwich and began to leave when Plagg called out.

“Seventy thousand euros.” Marinette stopped in her tracks and slowly turned back to face him. When he met her eyes again Plagg smirked. “Plus benefits.”

Shamelessly fast, Marinette sat back down. “This wouldn’t be a scam, would it?” Plagg opened his mouth but Marinette’s mind was already speeding ahead. “Why would he want to pay me so much?” She gasped. “Oh no, does he like me? Hold on—how did you get my number? Does he _stalk_ me?”

“That’s not—“

“Why does he want a female bodyguard instead of a male bodyguard? Isn’t that the strangest aspect of all? And he’s coming after me, who didn’t even apply for a bodyguard position?  Something’s fishy! Oh my God—is it really a _bodyguard_ position, or something else—”

“Oi!” Plagg interrupted, looking a little peeved. “Geez, you talk a lot. Listen.” He got up and whispered into Marinette’s ear. Her face fell with realization.

“…Oh. That makes sense.”

Plagg sat back down. Almost as an afterthought, Marinette asked, “What’s the name of your company, anyway?”

“Chat Noir Games,” Plagg supplied. “You heard of—whoa, what’s with your face?” Marinette’s jaw had dropped open, and then her face split into a wide, manic grin.

“Chat Noir Games?” She wiggled excitedly. “I’d love to meet the CEO! Does tomorrow evening work?”

“No wonder Adrien chose you,” Plagg muttered under his breath while she rambled on about how she couldn’t believe the shady man was the CEO. He was vastly unsettled by her mood change. “You two are equally weird.”

…

Sabine looked up at the sound of the bell jingling. There was another lull in business since the hectic lunch hour had passed and she was fully relishing in it as she flipped through a magazine, so she wasn’t expecting any customers for a while. When she saw who entered, though, her face eased into a natural smile.

“Anarka!” She got up to greet the woman. “I haven’t seen you in a while. How is business?”

“As good as ever,” Anarka replied. The woman ran a seafood restaurant on a boat. Sabine and Anarka went way back, from the time that Marinette went to school with Anarka’s daughter, Juleka, and the two often chatted about business. “I was craving some of your famous sweets so I decided to stop by.”

“Lemon meringue pie?”

Anarka chuckled. “You still remember.”

“Of course.” As Sabine got to taking the pie out, Anarka leaned against the counter.

“I heard there’s a redevelopment happening in this area.”

“Yes, well…” Sabine wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like the looks of it. It seems like shady business, not to mention the construction workers all seem like thugs. Besides, I like the tranquility of our neighborhood.”

“Speaking of shady business,” Anarka whispered, “is Marinette doing alright?”

Sabine paused with her knife in the pie. “What?”

“I heard she got mixed up in some sort of problem with a group of thugs,” Anarka explained. “Luka said she was at the station yesterday. Did she not tell you?”

Sabine’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “No, she didn’t.” She suddenly had an itching urge to go out and find Marinette to ask her, but realized she had no idea where her daughter was. She’d have to wait for Marinette to come home.

“Oh, Anarka!” Tom came out of the back kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron. “Long time no see. Uh…” He noticed his wife’s iron grip on the knife and furrowed his eyebrows. “What’s going on?”

Sabine broke out of her trance and saw her husband standing there. She quickly schooled her expression. “Nothing’s going on! Anarka just told me about the redevelopment. It made me a bit angry.” She exchanged a look with Anarka that said _don’t tell him._ Tom was a sucker when it came to Marinette, and he was like an overprotective bear despite Marinette being able to lift him with one hand. If he found out she’d gotten involved in such a thing… well, he might faint. Anarka subtly nodded in understanding.

“Heh, that’s right,” Anarka chuckled, awkwardly scratching her cheek. “It makes you want to organize a protest, doesn’t it?” She checked her watch. “Oh, I’ve got to go now.”

Sabine quickly finished slicing the pie and boxed it for Anarka. “Right, of course. Here’s your pie.” She rang Anarka up and handed her the receipt. “Bye, come again soon!”

Once Anarka left Sabine gnawed on her lip, raptly watching the windows for any sign of Marinette. Tom eyed her from the corner of his eyes.

“Now tell me the truth. What happened?”

Sabine whipped her head towards him. “What? What do you mean? Nothing happened!”

“Then why are you biting your lip and picking at your fingernails?” Sabine looked down and noticed her hands unconsciously doing just that. _Drats!_ Twenty years of marriage had its inconveniences, too, one of them being that she couldn’t lie to Tom.

“Well…” She looked out the window and saw Marinette. “Oh! Marinette’s home!” That was enough to distract Tom as they both looked towards the door. Marinette entered with a smile on her face.

“Welcome home, Marinette!” Tom stepped forward and engulfed his daughter in a bear hug. Marinette giggled. “How was your day?”

“I have good news,” Marinette exclaimed. “I think I got a job!”

“Really? That’s great!” This time Marinette lifted Tom off of the ground in her own bear hug. Sabine stood at the counter, confused. Marinette looked completely fine and was evidently still strong, if she was lifting her 6’5 father up off the ground without a problem. On top of that she had good news. It looked like Marinette hadn’t misused her powers. Sabine relaxed and smiled before going forward and joining in on the hug.

“I’m going to cook dinner tonight,” Marinette declared happily. “You guys relax. It’s my treat!”

Sabine beamed up at Marinette, wiping a tear away from her eye. Her daughter really was all grown up.

…

During dinner that night, Marinette got a call on her phone. When she saw who it was, she excused herself from the table before excitedly running up the stairs, slipping into her room for some privacy. After all, _Luka_ called her.

Marinette took a deep breath before answering the call. “Hello?”

“Hey Marinette, it’s me.”

She grinned even though he couldn’t see. “I know.”

“I did background checks on all those guys you got involved with yesterday and they’re really bad people. Don’t get yourself in trouble.”

“I won’t,” Marinette reassured. “Listen, I got a—“

“You should get a taser,” Luka plodded on, unaware of Marinette’s efforts to tell him about her job. “Actually, I have a few spares. I’ll bring you one on my way home tomorrow, okay?”

“Right.” Marinette took a deep breath, ready to tell him about her job, when—

“Anyways, I have a lot of work,” Luka filled in the silence. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Without any further ado he hung up. Marinette glared at the screen halfheartedly after taking it off of her ear.

“He’s always so busy,” she sighed. She supposed it was a given. Police work hours weren’t predetermined, and growing up meant that Luka couldn’t be the laidback person that she knew from _lycée_.

But when she thought about it…

 “Oh my goodness! He’ll bring me a taser? He’s worried for me?” She squealed and jumped in place, quickly stopping after it caused the house to shake. Marinette wasn’t very difficult to please when it came to Luka, so it all worked out. She opened her bedside drawer and sifted through it. When she found what she was looking for, she held it up to the light with a grin.

A guitar pick with her favorite musician’s logo on it. Luka had given it to her the first time she went over to his house/boat/restaurant… er, abode, for a school project with Juleka. It was the first time she’d met Luka. Jagged Stone was both of their favorite musicians, and Luka had a collection of guitar picks since he used to play the guitar. They’d hit it off really well since that day.

Unfortunately, music didn’t really work out for Luka. It’s hard to get far in the world on arts unless you’re famous, rich, or both. Luckily he found a new dream—and even if being a policeman was vastly different from being a musician, Luka still filled it out really well. But some things had to be sacrificed for it, like sleep, free time, and his easygoing nature.

Marinette just hoped she wasn’t one of those things that needed to be sacrificed, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter was minimal on the actiony side. Some Plagg and Marinette interaction and Marinette insight on Luka. Next chapter is when the ACTION action will Just Begin... muahahaha!!
> 
> Also: do you guys prefer slightly longer chapters or no?? I've been keeping them between 1300-2300 words at the most, usually under 2000, but I'm not sure if that's too short. Thoughts?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So clearly...I am very bad at sticking to my own schedules. Oh well. It's better than updates in 2 month intervals, right?   
> Thank you to everyone that comments. It makes me very happy to read them :-) Things are finally starting to pick up their pace around here. Enjoy! :D

A knock sounded on Adrien’s office door. He instantly knew it wasn’t Plagg, since his secretary never knocked, so it was either someone coming in about a problem in UMS 3 that was so bad that the CEO needed to know, or it was his appointment with Marinette. He really hoped it was the latter.

“Come in,” he called. When Marinette walked in, craning her head to look all around his office, he breathed a sigh of relief.

Adrien gestured to the meeting area, where two sofas sat opposite each other across a coffee table. “Here, sit down. We can get right to business.”

Marinette cleared her throat. “Right.”

“Did you bring your resume?”

“Yep.” Marinette handed him a folder. When Adrien opened it, he was amazed by its vast emptiness. In the past experiences section, a bunch of odd-jobs were listed down, but other than that it was sparse. Even the self-introduction didn’t go past where she was from. When he read down the list of where she’d applied before, he was surprised to see that she’d applied for Character Design and Development in his company.

“You’ve applied here before?” He flipped through the resume. “With a resume like this… you sure are brave.”

Marinette shrugged. Either she didn’t notice the remark or ignored it. “I chose Chat Noir Games because it doesn’t discriminate based on race, gender, religion... anything, really.”

Adrien nodded, a bit prideful. “Well. You _are_ right about that.” He’d taken the pains to make sure his company looked different from his father’s, after all. Each company had its own culture. Adrien liked to think his company’s culture was diverse. Nobody was exempt from it based on anything except their skill level.

To Adrien, Gabriel’s company culture was old racists.

He set the resume down. “Why did you want to work here?”

She replied right away. “I heard it’s a good company.” No fluff, no ‘it was my dream to do blah blah since I was a child’ or ‘your company inspires me blah blah’, no nonsense. Just… a good company.

A few seconds of silence passed. Apparently it had been the right answer to give, as Adrien stuck his hand out. “Pleased to have you with us.” Marinette shook his hand. “Sadly you’ll be my bodyguard instead of an employee in the Character Design and Development department, though.”

“Although, I’ve been wondering,” Marinette spoke up afterwards, “why do you need a bodyguard? You’re young and healthy. And it’s not like being the head of a gaming company is something that puts you on a hit list… right?”

“Not my being the CEO, but something else,” Adrien said, tacking on the last bit almost like an afterthought. When Marinette cocked her head in confusion, he elaborated, “I have lots of enemies. But don’t get it wrong, I’m not a bad guy.”

Marinette narrowed her eyes, not entirely convinced. “Riiiight.” She totally thought he was sketchy.

Adrien shifted uncomfortably. This meeting wasn’t quite going the way he wanted. An idea abruptly formed in his mind and Adrien decided to go with it. He dropped to his knees and put his elbow on the table.

“Arm wrestle me.”

 Marinette stared at him blankly. “What?”

“Arm wrestle me,” he repeated. “I want to see how much you should really be paid. This position is no joke, you know.” More like he wanted to see her strength—again. The more time that passed from the gangster incident, the more Adrien convinced himself that his mind was playing tricks. After all, how could that even be _possible?_ Physics-defying, supernatural strength?

Marinette reluctantly slid to the ground and assumed the same position as Adrien. “Fine, but you try to pin my hand down. I don’t want to break your bones.”

Adrien breathed out a laugh. “You’re awfully confident.” With that, he began to push her hand, only to stay right in place. Her hand didn’t budge an inch.

It was like pushing against a rock wall. Adrien tried putting more of his body weight behind it, but it only seemed like his own wrist was going backwards. His face started to go red from the strain.

“You can use your other hand if you want,” Marinette told him nonchalantly.

“Why— I’d never—“ Adrien gave up the act and shot out his other hand, trying with all his might to push her hand down even the slightest bit. Alas, it was to no avail. With a flick of her wrist, Adrien’s hand slammed onto the table.

“OW!” He instantly got up and cradled his hand, walking to the far corner of the room only to crouch down again. It felt like he’d slammed his knuckles against a steel pot.

“Sorry about that!” Marinette was standing behind him. _Ah, geez, how embarrassing._ As if she’d read his mind, she continued, “Don’t feel too embarrassed. I’m a bit special, you see.”

He _did_ see. Somehow having a first-hand experience with her otherworldly strength sunk it in for him more than seeing her beat up ten men like a Hollywood film did. She had superhuman strength—who knows how, but she _did._

Adrien got up and hid his trembling hand behind his back, trying to salvage as much of his pride as he could. He cleared his throat and called Plagg. “Yeah, Plagg? Bring the contract to my office.”

When Plagg dropped the contract off, Marinette flipped through it. Her eyes immediately bugged out at the 75,000 figure for her salary. _He wasn’t lying about that?_ Adrien caught her expression and smirked, immediately knowing what had garnered that reaction from her.

However, Marinette didn’t sign. She looked up at Adrien. “Can we make a deal first?”

Adrien cocked his head. “What kind of deal?”

“If I do a good job as your bodyguard, can you give me a chance to work in Character Design and Development?”

Adrien really wasn’t prepared for such a question. He rubbed the back of his neck, unsure. “Well, I hire people based on their skill. I don’t know how skilled you are to be in the Character Design and Development department.” He pointed to his right hand which was, embarrassingly enough, still trembling. However, it proved a point. “I know you’re skilled enough to be my bodyguard.”

Marinette looked up at him pleadingly. “All I’m asking for is a chance. Please?”

_Dammit—stop looking at me like that!_ Adrien relented fast, almost too fast. “Fine—I can give you a chance. But only if you do a good job as my bodyguard.”

Marinette beamed at him, holding a fist up in determination. “I definitely will. You won’t regret this.” With that, she collected her resume and made for the door. “See you tomorrow morning, boss!” Snickering, she left.

_You won’t regret this,_ she’d said. Adrien stared after her retreating form.

_Are you sure about that, Marinette?_

…

Marinette walked home that night, thoroughly pleased with herself. “I finally got a job!” She skipped a little, happily swinging her bag by her side. “And it pays well, too! Now I just have to try to get into Character Design and Development.” Even if being a bodyguard paid well, she still wanted to have a shot at her _real_ dream job. Maybe it was time to bust out the old digital drawing tablet again so her skills wouldn’t be so rusty.

Marinette was walking into her neighborhood when a cold feeling slipped across her back like ice water. She shivered and turned around, but found nothing behind her. A few steps later, the feeling was back again, accompanied by something that sounded like constant, rhythmic beats behind her.

Someone was following her. _They definitely picked the wrong person._ Marinette clenched her hand into a fist. She walked a bit faster, listening to hear if the footsteps would speed up as well. They did for a moment, but quickly disappeared. Marinette turned around again, looking for anybody there.

Whoever it was, they were gone for good this time. Marinette narrowed her eyes and cautiously set off again, feeling a bit unsettled. The feeling, and the noise, didn’t return again.

Almost right as she got home, Luka’s car pulled up in front of the bakery even though it was closed. It was enough to make Marinette momentarily forget about her chilling walk home as she waited outside of the bakery doors for Luka to get out of his car with a pattering heart. He could only be here for one reason if the bakery was closed. And that reason was her.

Luka stepped out of his car. Marinette waved to him, beaming.

“Hi, Luka! I wasn’t expecting you. What are you doing here?”

Luka gave her a once-over. “Did you just get home?”

Marinette nodded. “Yeah, why?”

He dug around in his pocket and came up with a black handheld item. “This is the taser I was talking about yesterday,” he explained. He took Marinette’s hand and placed the taser in her palm, not taking note of how she stiffened when he touched her. “Take this with you anytime you’re out late again.”

“Oh.” Marinette had been hoping that he dropped by for other reasons. Realizing that he was about to leave, Marinette quickly asked, “How’s Juleka doing, by the way? I haven’t talked to her since _lycée_.”

“She—“ Luka’s phone started ringing with a call. He took his phone out. “Oh, that’s her now. I have to go now, Marinette.” He accepted the call and placed it to his ear, giving Marinette one last final wave. Marinette waved back a little weakly as she watched him go. When he’d finally gone, she looked to the taser in her hand with a sigh.

“You’re totally useless,” she told the taser scornfully as if it were the cause for her frustration. “But I guess I have to keep you anyway…” With another sigh, Marinette opened the door to the bakery with her key and plodded inside.

**_elsewhere_ **

A young woman walked through the 21st arrondissement of Paris late at night as she made her way home. After a long day at work, she was tired and more than ready to go to bed.

It was perhaps because of her tiredness that she didn’t notice the footsteps until they were glaringly obvious. Her body stilled for a moment, then broke out in a cold sweat as she heard the steps increase in speed. It was the nightmare that every young woman thought of when they were out, alone, at night.

_I’m being followed._ The scary thought itself was enough to put her in a bit of a panic. She sped up until she was lightly jogging—the adrenaline coursing through her veins prevented her from tripping in a bout of clumsiness. Her heels were sure to leave nasty blisters on her feet the next morning because of it, but she was too frightened to care.

She craned her neck around to check if there was still someone there. It was too dark to tell, but she didn’t think that anyone was behind her anymore…

When she turned around again, she was met with a full view of a skin colored mask.

A scream ripped itself out of her throat before she could even comprehend anything else. The stranger, wearing all black and donning the skin mask, pushed her hard enough to knock her into the ground. Without thinking, she tore at the stranger with her teeth, nails, just _anything_ to be able to get away.

Something in the person’s hand flashed in the dim streetlights overhead before she felt a tearing sensation splitting with fiery pain in her side, burning enough to make her eyes dance with spots…


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I combined 2 preset chapters into one because they felt too short and like they ended in weird places... so a slightly longer chapter than usual! :)
> 
> (also yes i stole a Fairy Tail pun from Ryan Higa... it's in there... gonna acknowledge it before i forget and feel bad lmaoo)

When Luka walked into the police station early next morning, he was met with the sight of the Special Crimes Unit 3 room in disarray. His colleagues were all over the place, urgent calls were being made, and multiple screens were open to feeds from the night before.

He grabbed the elbow of Theo who was rushing by. “What’s going on?”

Theo looked out of breath. “There’s been a murder.”

Luka froze, icy dread pooling in his stomach. “Where?”

“21st arrondissement.”

The icy feeling in his stomach dropped ten degrees. Luka let go of Theo’s elbow and immediately whipped his phone out, navigating to Marinette’s contact. 21st arrondissement… Marinette lived there.

_You’re worrying yourself for nothing. She’s fine,_ his internal, logical voice reasoned. _You saw her go in last night. You even gave her a taser to protect herself._ But the rest of Luka didn’t care what the reasons were—he just needed to be sure. He called Marinette and held the phone to his ear. Each ring that went by unanswered made his anxiety spike up. He impatiently tapped his foot against the floor and started pacing.

_“Hello? Luka?”_ He stopped pacing. She answered. _She answered._ He let out a shuddering breath.

“Marinette. I just wanted to make sure you were fine.”

“ _What? Why? Is something wrong?”_

“No,” he replied quickly, then cringed. He had a bad habit of dismissing problems, especially to Marinette, so that she wouldn’t worry. Maybe he should tell her… but then again, she would see on the news soon enough. In the end, he stuck with a simple, “Be careful nowadays, especially at night. I need to go now.”

“ _Um… alright. Bye then.”_

“Bye.” He hung up. The call had lasted thirteen seconds. Nowadays most of their calls hardly went up to thirty seconds at the most—and he knew it was his fault. He wished he could talk for longer like they used to do back when they were in school, but he wasn’t a musician anymore. Police work was the opposite of being a musician. Instead of him setting his own work hours to match his schedule, his schedule was set by his work hours. Crime didn’t wait.

Speaking of crime… he had a new case to look into, and a serious one at that. Luka closed his phone, Marinette’s name blinking out on his screen, and stowed it away in his pocket.

…

_“Be careful nowadays, especially at night. I need to go now.”_

“Um… alright. Bye then.” Marinette was confused as to why Luka had called her to say so little. With a goodbye, he hung up on the other end. She took her phone off her ear. _Thirteen seconds? He called just to talk for thirteen seconds?_ With a perplexed expression on her face, Marinette put her phone back in her purse. She took a deep breath and shook her head.

“No thinking about Luka today, Marinette,” she commanded herself. “It’s your first day at work!”

She looked up at the series of gargantuan glass buildings that made up Chat Noir Games’ headquarters. A giddy sensation made her bounce on her toes. _My first day at work!_ She stopped herself with a deep breath again.

“Okay Marinette, calm down. You’re at work, not at a playground.” After calming herself down, she strode inside and made her way to Adrien’s office. She noticed that the employees inside were even more haggard than the last time she’d visited, and the reason for it was written clearly on a large whiteboard in the middle of it all: ‘D-3 UNTIL GAME RELEASE’. Marinette’s inner gamer wanted to fangirl and run around to look at everything. After all, the game release that everyone was working on was UMS 3 and she couldn’t wait to see the new mecha bot designs. However, she had to remember that she was at work, not a field trip. Marinette physically stopped her neck from craning to look at everything as she made a beeline towards Adrien’s office.

Upon entering, she set her bag down on the sofa. When she turned around, though, she jumped back with a gasp. The flat screen had a glitching image of a bloodied skull, with the word “KILL” written underneath in bold red. The image was enough to make her heart pick up its pace.

“What in the world?”

“That’s what I’m talking about.” Marinette jumped a second time with a squawk. Adrien stood at the door with his hands in his pockets, casually eyeing the screen as if it didn’t have a bloody skull on it. “I told you I have enemies everywhere, right? The IT geniuses make digital threats.”

“Who’s behind this?” Marinette wondered, tracing the image with her eyes. She hadn’t imagined that Adrien’s problem would be like _this._

“If I knew that, I would have caught them by now,” Adrien replied cynically. “I get threats like these regularly. Recently they’ve even started to follow me.”

“Then why don’t you call the police?”

Adrien clicked his tongue. “The police are useless.” Marinette turned her gaze to him at that, furrowing her eyebrows. He sounded awfully sure about that. “I don’t like them. I’d rather do it myself.” Before she could ask why, Adrien turned to Marinette with a glint in his eye.

“Help me catch them. How about it? You like video games, right? It’ll be like a game!”

Marinette’s face dropped into an unimpressed expression. “Are you kidding me right now?”

“Come on,” Adrien pleaded. “They’re bugging the hell out of me. Did you know they called me in the middle of the night a while ago? While I was sleeping!”

As sympathetic as Marinette felt for Adrien (she was, after all, one to cherish her precious sleep) she was still indifferent. “No way. I’m your bodyguard, not your partner in crime.” Or… anti-crime, at any rate.

Adrien fell silent for a moment. He suddenly snapped his fingers. “If you help me catch him, I’ll transfer you to the Character Design and Development team.” He smirked at Marinette’s awed face, her change in mood clear. “Interested?”

Marinette cleared her throat, trying to compose herself. _Don’t look desperate. You’re not_ that _easy, Marinette!_ “I’ll think about it.” Just then, Adrien’s phone rang. He took it out of his pocket and frowned upon seeing the number. _Hmm, I think I know who this might be. Perfect timing._ He accepted the call and put it on speaker.

“ _I warned you,”_ the distorted voice rang throughout the room. Marinette’s eyes widened. “ _Your game development goes on, I see. Don’t be surprised at what happens from now on.”_ With that, the call clicked shut. A long silence followed.

“…I’ll do it,” Marinette finally spoke up, breaking the silence. “I’ll catch that guy.” Truthfully, she hadn’t really understood the gravity of Adrien’s situation, but it seemed really bad. She’d be cruel not to help. The _bonus_ was beside the point.

Adrien put his phone away. “Good.” He took the remote to the TV and messed around with it a bit to get rid of the skull on the screen. When he finally did it away, he flipped the channel to the news. Shots of a bloodied corpse surrounded by yellow tape and multitudes of policemen marking things down filled up the screen. At the bottom, the headline read: _‘MURDER IN 21 ST ARRONDISSEMENT, PARIS’._

_“Last night while walking home a young woman by the name of Claire was attacked and killed by an unknown suspect,”_ the news anchor’s voice said in the background. _“Police are trying to find the perpetrator, but the attack seemed to have taken place in an unguarded area. No camera evidence was able to be found. The woman was stabbed two times in her abdomen…”_

Marinette watched the news with wide eyes. _That’s my neighborhood._ She thought back to the chilling sensation she’d gotten last night while walking home. Could that have been…?

“So many things are going on,” Adrien murmured, breaking Marinette out of her trance. What he said wasn’t wrong: for some reason, Marinette couldn’t shake the feeling that the person threatening Adrien had something to do with the murder… but that didn’t make sense at the same time. What motive could they possibly have in murdering a random woman and trying to shut down Adrien’s company? It was probably because she was hearing about all these weird events in such a tight time range, right?

“I have a weird feeling about all this,” she whispered to herself, unaware that Adrien had heard.

...

“How long have you been getting those calls?”

“The calls?” Adrien scrolled through his call history. “The first one’s from two months ago. The stalking and hacking… well, that’s from about a month ago, I guess.”

“Two _months?”_ Marinette gaped. “Not liking the police is fine and all, but—if it goes on for two whole months then maybe that’s a sign you need help!”

“That’s why I asked you,” Adrien shot back. “Besides, do _you_ like the police?”

Marinette’s response was immediate. "Yes." When Adrien looked at her with a questioning gaze, she glanced down at her hands with a shy smile. “The police are cool.”

Adrien narrowed his eyes. _There’s definitely something there. Or more accurately, someone._ He shook it off. “I don’t need them if you’re my bodyguard. If you do your job well, we’ll be able to catch them.”

Marinette’s expression changed into a serious one. “Right.” Adrien realized that what he said may have put more pressure than necessary on Marinette.

“In any case, I can’t get any work done like this.” He strode over to the door and then beckoned to Marinette who still stood in the office. “Come on, _bodyguard._ You have to protect me everywhere I go, remember?”

Muttering something under her breath, Marinette followed him. “Where are we going anyway?”

“Retail therapy,” Adrien replied. Marinette’s face screwed up in confusion.

They reached the parking lot and walked through, passing countless average looking cars until they reached one that was clearly in a different price range, a shining black model. Marinette prepared to go over to the expensive car and get in without doing something stupid with her clumsiness to damage the car that would cost herself a month’s worth of pay. However, much to her surprise, they strode right past the expensive sports car and instead stopped in front a smaller car—still nice, but not in the six-digit range.

“Huh,” Marinette commented out loud.  She pointed to the convertible behind them. “Who does that car belong to, then?”

“Oh, that?” Adrien turned and gave the sleek sports car a once over. “That’s Plagg’s.”

“Your _secretary?”_

“Yeah, he’s sort of a snob when it comes to luxury,” Adrien deadpanned. “Or, actually, a snob in general.”

Marinette thought that they didn’t have a very conventional secretary-boss relationship with the way Adrien talked about Plagg, but chose not to say anything about it. Instead, she remarked, “I thought that the CEO would own a car like that.”

“Nah.” Adrien’s voice grew quiet. “I got sick and tired of that kind of stuff.”

With his subdued comment, Marinette couldn’t help but wonder about a few things that had been nagging at her mind. Adrien didn’t seem like a traditional rich person. Marinette knew a designer brand on sight—after all, fashion design _had_ been her dream until she had to give it up—but often times Adrien wore small brand clothes, or even clothes that she couldn’t recognize the brands of. Also, Marinette used to think that bosses wore suits a lot, black or dark brown suits with ties and polished shoes. However, Adrien wore anything but. In fact, more of his wardrobe seemed to consist of lighter-colored clothes, or those with bright colors. And all of those clothes were sweaters, overcoats, casual shirts, sure—but no suits. There was also his relatively affordable, non-sports car. It was almost like he was trying to do the opposite of what one would expect a rich person to do.

She was broken out of her musings when a pair of keys jangled in her face. Marinette accepted them more out of habit than anything else before realizing what he’d given her. “Huh? I’m driving?”

“No,” Adrien said. He backed up until he was ten feet away and tucked himself behind a pillar. Marinette watched all the while with more and more perplexity. “Start the engine.”

Incredulous, she asked, “Why?”

“There might be a bomb.” Adrien shrugged as if _that_ tidbit of information wasn’t alarming or anything. “So you should start the car.”

“You want _me_ to blow up then?”

“Then should I?” Adrien raised his eyebrows and gestured to the car again. “You’re the bodyguard here!”

Marinette thought she would roll her eyes into her head at this rate. _Yep, he is DEFINITELY not a traditional rich person. He’s way crazier!_

Once Marinette turned the car on (it didn’t explode), Adrien sat in the driver’s seat and started off to his mystery destination. Marinette wasn’t really paying attention as he drove, but when he pulled up into a parking lot, it was one of a store that she was _very_ familiar with.

“A manga store?” Marinette’s jaw dropped. “ _This_ is your retail therapy?” Manga instead of clothes? Now that she thought about it, though, she’d already noticed how Adrien didn’t wear big brand clothing. But _still!_

“If not this, then what?” Adrien got out of the car and grinned at the storefront, almost giddily. “I need to update on my Noragami collection. Besides, I heard they restocked on new merch.” He gave her a side-eye. “You’re not one of those”—he raised his voice a pitch or two—“’ _anime is lame!’_ people, are you?”

Marinette stifled a giggle at his ridiculous impersonation. “No way. I don’t keep collections, though.”

Adrien sniffed. “Well, your loss.” He rushed inside the store like a child. Marinette followed behind him, shaking her head.

Inside, Adrien pored over volumes of many different mangas. It seemed like he was an avid reader. Then again, it also made sense for the CEO of a gaming company to be into comics. Marinette was looking at some cute keychain charms when Adrien called out, “Hey, wouldn’t you say this is for fair retail?” Marinette glanced in his direction where he was standing with a hoodie held up in his hands, Fairy Tail logo on the front. Her face instantly twisted up as Adrien burst out in laughter.

“That was horrible!”

“I’ve always thought of that,” he chortled. “Finally I can tell it to someone.”

Again, his comment made Marinette sober up. A Google search, she decided, was due once she got home. There was only so much she could find out from his offhand comments, and she was getting more and more curious. He was like the secretive-brooding persona… just without the brooding.

They looked around for a while before Adrien finally went to the register, carrying less with him than Marinette had expected if his excitement from before had been any indication. Afterwards, they got in the car again and Adrien began driving through the 21st arrondissement. Soon enough they came across the crime scene from the night before. Yellow tape closed off a large chunk of the pathway between two apartment buildings. The body had long since been removed, but blood stains were visible on the ground even from their spot in the car.

Adrien felt an uncomfortable prickling at the back of his neck just looking at the scene. Glancing over at Marinette, he saw that she looked forlorn. _Oh,_ he realized, remembering a detail from her resume. He didn’t remember her address, but he could distinctly recall it being in the 21st arrondissement. _This is her neighborhood._ Deciding that the atmosphere had become too gloomy, Adrien backed the car away from the scene. “Let’s go eat,” he said.

“Oh.” Marinette blinked. If the sudden change in subject surprised her, she didn’t show it. Instead, she took hold of the opportunity and said, “I know a good place around here. Go forward until you reach the end of that block with that blue mailbox and then take a left…”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another longish chapter. I think I like these lengths (near 3000 words) better. Hmm... maybe I will combine more preset chapters then :)  
> Anyways, enjoy!

Tom finally rested his hands after a long morning of kneading dough and frosting cakes. He flexed his fingers and stretched his neck. The actions resulted in a concerning number of cracks, but it felt too good for him to care about getting old. He made his way outside to the bakery where Sabine was helping some tourists pick out desserts from the display cases. Tom left that to her—Sabine’s English was far better than his was. While he waited for her to finish, the bell above their door jingled, signaling the arrival of another customer. Tom went to attend to them, only to stop when he saw who it was.

“Alya!” He went forward with a chuckle, arms open for a hug. “It’s been years since I saw you last!”

“Only a month, but the feeling’s mutual,” she said humorously, rolling her luggage to a stop and stepping into the hug. Alya’s field was journalism, so she was always travelling around to cover stories far and wide. She was Marinette’s best friend and the Dupain-Chengs were very familiar with her ever since her _lycée days._

“How have things been?” Alya peered around Tom’s large form. “Is Marinette not here?”

“Actually, she got a job,” Tom replied. “Full time.”

Alya looked fascinated by the notion. “Really?”

“Well, we don’t know if it’ll be full time yet.” Both of them jumped at Sabine’s sudden intervention in the conversation. She’d finished with the tourists. “Long time no see, Alya.” Sabine smiled. “Let’s have a cup of tea, shall we? We still have time to the lunch hour rush.”

**…**

“So, she’s a bodyguard for a CEO who knows about her secret super strength?” Alya summarized. She had a way of making things sound more dramatic than they really were by using her Journalist Voice™, but Tom and Sabine, entirely used to it, just nodded along.

“That’s what she told us,” Sabine replied. “She seemed pretty excited about it, too.”

Alya nodded, satisfied. “Well, I’m happy for her.” Her mood turned serious and her voice dropped to a whisper. “Also… I heard what happened around here last night.” Tom and Sabine both got grave looks on their faces.

“Yes. It’s a cruel world we live in,” Sabine sighed. Tom clenched his fists in his lap.

“I’m scared for Marinette,” he quietly admitted, “even though she’s more capable of protecting herself than I am. She’s still my daughter who comes home late at night, and with a murderer on the loose…”

Alya placed a hand on Tom’s, shooting him a reassuring smile. “Don’t you worry, Mr. Dupain. I’ll make sure Marinette doesn’t get into any trouble.” He wearily smiled back, looking thankful.

“Speak of the devil,” Sabine uttered, peeking out the window. Tom and Alya turned around to see what she was looking at. “There she comes—but who’s that she’s with? Could that be her boss?” Indeed, Marinette was coming not alone, but instead with a young man who… actually looked familiar to Alya for some reason. She gasped when it clicked in her mind.

“Wait, what was the company you said Marinette worked at?”

“Chat Noir Games,” Sabine answered. “Why?”

“No way,” Alya marveled. “So _that’s_ Adrien Agreste?”

“What’s so special about him?” Tom had apparently recovered from his momentary plight and was now squinting at Adrien suspiciously through the glass of the bakery window.

“He’s a total mystery!” Alya exclaimed. Her curious inner journalist began escaping and she twisted in her chair to watch Adrien and Marinette approach. “His dad is Gabriel Agreste, fashion mogul multi-millionaire. Adrien was supposed to take over half of the company stocks four years ago once he turned twenty-one, but for reasons nobody knows he ran off and made his own company instead.” Alya turned back to the Dupain-Chengs with a wild grin. “And no reporter has been able to figure out why, up to date.”

Her sentence was punctuated by the jingling of the bakery bell. Inside entered Marinette with the very subject of their conversation.

“Alya!” Marinette perked up with a surprised squeal when she saw her best friend sitting at the table. “I didn’t know you came back!” She ran forward to hug Alya, seemingly forgetting about Adrien. He didn’t seem to mind at all, though, as he became invested in the baked goods lining the front-counter displays.

“Hey, girl!” Alya hugged Marinette back, messing up Marinette’s hair just the way she knew it’d annoy her most. As predicted, Marinette pulled back with a scowl as she tried to readjust the short black locks. Alya nodded toward Adrien’s direction with a mischievous smirk. “Why didn’t you tell me about your new job?”

This seemed to snap Adrien out of his starry-eyed trance. He pulled away from the sweets with some difficulty and joined them at the table they were sitting at.

“Nice to meet you,” Adrien said with a bright smile. He stuck a hand out. “My name’s Adrien.”

His smile seemed to entrance everyone. Sure, it might have belonged in a toothpaste commercial, and _sure,_ with his glimmering green eyes and blond hair he looked like some kind of model, but— _Phooey,_ Marinette thought with a bit of an eyeroll. _They don’t know how ridiculous he can actually be!_

Thankfully, her dad didn’t seem fooled. He gave Adrien’s hand a firm shake, jarring Adrien and causing him to stumble a little bit. “Hello. I’m Marinette’s _father.”_

Adrien just nodded, a little confused about the emphasis. “Er… right. I can see the resemblance.” It was a blatant lie—next to his petite, black haired and blue eyed daughter, the towering man with a bushy brown mustache and warm hazel eyes was basically her opposite.

“I’m Marinette’s mother,” Sabine interrupted, casting Tom a warning look out of the corner of her eye. She beamed at Adrien. “Just call me Sabine.”

“Right.” Adrien seemed to come to a realization and turned to Marinette. “Wait, so your family owns this bakery?” When Marinette nodded, he squinted at her. “Using me to further your family’s sales, I see.”

Marinette shrugged. “I said I know a good place, nothing more, nothing less.”

“Well then, you lied,” Alya spoke up, then grinned at Adrien. “This is the best boulangerie in Paris.” She stuck a hand out. “I’m Alya. I’ve been Marinette’s best friend since _lycée and can tell you anything about her, from how loudly she snores to—“_

_Marinette smacked a hand over Alya’s mouth. No matter how hard she tried, Alya couldn’t dislodge Marinette’s fingers from her face. They were like iron clamps. “_ _Alya,”_ _Marinette said sweetly, “is a journalist, so she talks a lot and also happens to twist stories.” Ignoring the indignant muffling behind her hand, Marinette stared into Adrien’s eyes a bit unnervingly. “So whatever you do, don’t believe what she says.” Finally she let go of Alya’s face, who sucked in deep breaths._

“Er, alright,” Adrien said a bit hesitantly. Inwardly, though, he was very amused, and even a bit envious. They seemed like a tight-knit family. Even Alya seemed like a sister to Marinette. Rich people like him, he supposed, couldn’t buy things like this no matter how much money they paid.

Marinette checked the time. “Ah—are we going to go back soon?”

Adrien hummed distractedly. He’d gone back to scanning the confections in the glass cases. “Let me get something first.” Was he drooling? He pointed at some items in the glass and looked up with childlike glee in his eyes.

“Can I get a box of the passionfruit macarons and two croissants?”

“Of course,” Sabine said graciously, heading behind the counter to do just that. After she’d given Adrien his items and sent him and Marinette off, she rushed to the window to watch them go, not realizing that Tom and Alya were mirroring her actions. Marinette and Adrien climbed into a nice car—not a sports car, but just a notch or two down—and they drove off.

“He seems like a nice boy,” Sabine remarked, hands still pressed up against the glass. She’d still not grown out of the habit of calling everyone in Marinette’s age group “boys” and “girls” even though they were now twenty-five.

“Hmph,” was all that Tom grunted. Alya, meanwhile, had her lips stretched into a wicked grin.

_Marinette and Adrien, hmm? I can turn this into the perfect scoop if I try hard enough!_

...

Marinette finally got home later that night. It’d been a long day. Long didn’t even begin to describe it, actually. It was _laborious._

While going back to work with Adrien after visiting the bakery, they’d spotted someone suspiciously dressed in all black, including a face mask, following them on a motorcycle. It was undoubtedly Adrien’s stalker, and that fact only cemented when they took turns around a block only to go back onto the same main road and the motorcycle stayed at their heels the whole time. Adrien and Marinette had worked together then; Adrien maneuvered off to a small side road until it was just their car and the motorcycle. He’d then sped up so the motorcycle was forced to keep pace. After a few moments, he slammed the brakes. Marinette, despite being thrown against her seatbelt, had her phone out and ready to her camera and hit the burst mode the second the motorcycle zoomed past them. They’d been able to pick out a relatively clear picture of the motorcycle’s license plate (from the intimidating 182 pictures Marinette managed to take). From there, Adrien made a few “special calls” in order to track the plate’s address down.

“ _The police,”_ he’d declared, “ _will only ruin our hard work. Leave this to me.”_

So Marinette let him do it without bugging him about the police, even though she was inwardly scoffing at his stubborn refusal to go to the police for help. He’d managed to get the job done, and then they were driving out into the suburbs of Paris, letting the GPS in Adrien’s car take them every which way until they finally rolled up to the address of the stalker a tiring ninety minutes later. _Finally,_ Marinette had thought, _all of this will have been worth it to catch Adrien’s stalker._ She’d even felt excitement wash over her. _And after this I’ll be transferred to Character Design and Development…!_

Nearly two hours of work only for the man that they confronted to be the victim of a motorcycle thief. And on top of that, Marinette had knocked him out (by accident!), tied him up, and dragged him to the rooftop _before_ the man had thought to divulge this information. In tears, he’d told the story of his hard work collecting money for the bike going to waste, and Adrien had smacked his own forehead so hard that it’d been red for a good fifteen minutes. Marinette could possibly be facing explosive diarrhea for a month and all Adrien could think about was that she had, by the law, harassed a man.

_Tch,_ she’d wanted to snap at him, _I thought you wouldn’t care about the law if your hatred for police was any indication!_ However, a small, slightly rational part of her knew that they were both just crabby after a long day and near success that had failed at the last second. After the long drive back to work, and the even longer walk back home, Marinette was completely ready to relax so much she would melt. And she didn’t want to ever get up.

“You look tired,” Sabine commented as Marinette walked in. All Marinette could manage was an agreeable grunt. “Alya’s up in your room, by the way. She came by half an hour ago after visiting her family and dropping her things off at home.”

Marinette perked up. She’d completely forgotten that Alya was back in town. Marinette desperately, desperately needed girl time that only Alya could provide after a long, grueling day of work.

“Thanks Maman,” Marinette said quickly, kissing her mom on the cheek. She also kissed her dad’s cheek before running upstairs, making sure her steps weren’t too hard that they broke the stairs for the fourth time.

She opened the door to her room and found a variety of sweets, skin products and magazines laid out with Alya sitting on her phone in the middle of it all. Marinette dropped her purse on the ground.

“You, Alya, are a godsend.”

“Come.” Alya patted the ground next to her. “Tell Mama Alya all about your day.”

So Marinette did. She flopped onto the ground, put her head on Alya’s lap, and ranted about nothing but her day for the next half hour. Alya made sure to lean back when Marinette’s hands got too expressive during her storytelling so that she wouldn’t lose any teeth.

“And _then_ he had the nerve to tell me that I could get punished for what I did!”

“He wasn’t wrong,” Alya muttered. “You _did_ harass an innocent man. You even knocked him out.”

“He wasn’t opening up the door, so I yanked a little and he stumbled and hit his head,” Marinette defended herself. At Alya’s unimpressed look, she cried out, “He _did_! I didn’t even hit him!”

“You didn’t have to,” Alya pointed out. Sensing the end of Marinette’s tirade, she cleared her throat and said slyly, “You know, your boss Adrien is very _mysterious.”_

Marinette frowned, patting on the facemask that’d ended up on her face sometime during her rambling. Alya had even managed to clip back her bangs without her noticing. Either Marinette had really gotten into her story or Alya had gotten sneakier. “You think so?”

“Yes. In a brooding but intriguing sort of way. Like in the movies.”

Marinette suddenly sat up with a gasp. The face mask fell off and landed in her lap with a wet sounding slap. “Oh, right! I wanted to search up Adrien.” Alya watched as Marinette pulled out her phone and navigated to the internet browser.

“Really? Why?”

“Just some things I noticed…” Marinette mumbled. Searching his name yielded a bunch of results instantly. She opened a page about him—why were there so many articles written about him?

After no more than a paragraph of reading, Marinette got her answer.

Her eyes bugged out. “He’s Adrien _Agreste?”_ She all but shouted. Alya gave Marinette an incredulous look.

“You seriously didn’t know?”

“How should I have known?” Marinette retorted. “It’s not like he made it obvious he was an Agreste.” She placed her face in her hands, unsure how to process the information. “Then what’s with all the… anti-rich stuff he does?”

“What do you mean?” Alya asked, sounding very interested.

“Well, there’s lots of things.” Marinette began listing them off on her fingers. “First, he doesn’t wear any big designer clothes. Which is even weirder now that I think about it, seeing as how his father is _the_ Gabriel Agreste.” You didn’t even have to know a lot about fashion to recognize the name brand Gabriel when you saw it—and it’s exorbitant prices. “There’s also his car. His _secretary_ has a more expensive car than he does! And why did he go and establish his own company when he had stocks waiting for him on a silver platter?”

“That’s a mystery to everyone,” Alya replied surreptitiously. “And why he’s such an enigma. You know, as his bodyguard you’re going to be closer to him than anyone.” She elbowed Marinette, a cunning glint in her eye. “Imagine it. Slowly, he reveals his secrets and past to you. His shell breaks, and you begin to see his soft side. You two start to fall in—“

“Nope,” Marinette interrupted flatly. “ _Luka,_ remember?”

Alya heaved a sigh. “Come _on._ Are you still stuck on him? It’s been like, ten years!” She wasn’t even exaggerating—it had actually been ten years.

Marinette pouted. “So what?” She seemed to remember something and snapped her fingers triumphantly. “Aha! Do you want to know what Adrien’s secretary told me?” Leaning forward, she whispered in Alya’s ear. Alya’s eyes bugged out.

“ _What?”_ She turned to Marinette, nearly affronted. “Are you serious?” Marinette nodded smugly. “No way.” Alya shook her head in denial. “How would his secretary know _that?_ ”

“Well, they’re much closer than your ordinary secretary and boss,” Marinette answered with a pleased look on her face as she examined her nails. “If anyone would know, it’d be him.”

Finally Alya slumped with a pout as if her fun had been ruined. “Aw, man.”

“What, were you going to try to set us up?” Marinette accused. Alya shrugged shamelessly.

“Well, yeah.”

“ _Alya!_ ”

Outside, a faint scream echoed in the night. They froze in their laughter and looked at each other with wide eyes.

“Did you hear that…?” Alya whispered.

Their night of fun unwillingly ended right then and there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe... we got Tom being a little different; not totally ready to throw his daughter together with the blond kid, eh?  
> And oh no... dont tell me Mr. Masked Man has struck again :(


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to feedback I got from here and FF, I decided to make my chapters longer. Now they'll be like 3000-4000 words average. Thank you all feedbackers! :D  
> Lots of people ask about things like the origins of the powers, how the masked person may or may not be connected to one of our main characters, and WHAT THE HECK DID PLAGG TELL MARINETTE?   
> My answer to all that is: Wait and see :)

Luka came in to the office early that next morning, as per usual, and was faced with another scene of disarray. A sinking feeling filled his stomach long before Theo, catching Luka in the doorway, breathed out, “Kidnapping.” Luka’s fists tightened.

 _I was patrolling that area last night,_ he thought with increasing incredulity at himself. _How could I miss another criminal—?_ However, before he could berate himself any longer, Theo managed to choke out, “But there was a witness and the attacker ran away and now the victim is in the hospital.”

Luka looked at Theo, astounded. “The victim is alright?”

“Injured, yes, but in the hospital—“

“Why didn’t you say that sooner?”  Luka made for the door to go to the hospital and see if he could get any information on the victim, but then he turned Theo’s words over once more in his mind. He stopped again.

“Wait—there’s a witness?”

Before Theo could respond, a knock sounded at the door. Feeling a bit fed up, Luka swung open the door only to be met with the sight of an unfamiliar man. He was a little hunched over and nervously wringing his hands. His eyes darted around everywhere, and when he saw Luka’s face he shrunk back, looking intimidated. Luka quickly schooled his features into something less irritated, realizing who this was.

“You must be the witness,” he said as gently as possible. Luckily, his voice seemed to calm the man down a bit. It seemed he still had a bit of musician left in him if he could do something like that. Shaking the memories off, Luka continued, “Follow me. We’ll take you to the questioning room where everything you say is recorded, so that nothing is lost.” The witness nodded silently and followed Luka into the back, through a door and down a short hall before they stopped in front of another door labelled ‘Interrogation’. “Wait here,” Luka ordered. “I’ll get the Chief to listen as well.”

After fetching Roger, Luka got to questioning the man inside the room where cameras were rolling. After asking for basic information (like his name and where he lived), Luka got right to business. “Can you tell me what exactly you saw that night?”

The man shuddered, but opened his mouth and began to retell the tale in a quiet, raspy voice.

…

It had been very dark that night. Specifically around the parts of the 21st arrondissement that were nestled quite far in and hadn’t been redeveloped recently, the lamplights were far and few in-between. The little lighting there was more of a dingy yellow stain on the streets at night than anything else.

A figure dressed in black pressed up against a rooftop as a man with hair stained blue walked by, looking around with a keen eye. Most likely a member of the police—a detective patrolling after the recent murder, perhaps. But a simple patrol like that would hardly be enough to catch this person.

They waited until the detective walked by, and watched as he got into his car at last and drove away. Then they slipped down the fire escape. They’d already staked out their target from the top; now all that remained was getting to the destination. Their feet travelled on well-worn paths, not even needing the light as they navigated effortlessly. Soon enough the woman’s back came into view. As the figure sped up, the woman seemed to notice and tried to run away like a frightened bunny. Like prey.

The person easily closed in and knocked the woman to the ground just as she screamed ear-splittingly. Not wanting to risk anything more, they hit right where they knew a nerve spot would be: the soft flesh on the neck. But apparently, simply knowing the spot wasn’t enough, as the woman kept screaming and lashed out instead of passing out. The figure quickly sidestepped her flailing limbs as if they held blades and began kicking at her to try and knock her out.

A scraping noise caught the culprit’s attention. They looked up to see a lanky man staring open-mouthed at the scene, gravel skittering down from where he’d unconsciously kicked it. Cursing under their breath, the attacker pulled the hood further over their head and made off into the night. The victim lay there bleeding, and the man staring, until he seemed to come to his senses and called the police _._

_..._

“So you saw this person attacking the woman,” Luka clarified. “Did they have any weapon on them?”

The witness shook his head. “No. He was trying to beat her with his bare fists.” The man fell silent, but seemed like he had something more he wanted to say.

“Go on,” Luka urged. “Anything you say will be a help.”

“…He seemed afraid,” the witness whispered. Roger and Luka exchanged confused glances. The man elaborated, “When the woman began fighting back, he flinched back to avoid her hands and feet.” Luka’s eyebrows furrowed as he tried to process this information. Why in the world would the culprit have a behavior like that?

Silence stretched on in the little room. It became evident that the witness had nothing more to say. Roger was the first to get up. “Well, if that’s all.” Roger helped the man up from his seat and gratefully shook his hand. “Thank you very much for your help, sir. This will be very helpful in our investigation.”

The lanky man nodded. “Right. I just hope you can catch that monster.” He looked down, grief clearly reflecting in his eyes. “I have a daughter too, and I can’t imagine what the other parents must be going through right now. The parents of both victims.”

Roger offered a sad sort of smile. “I know the feeling, Mr. Harpele.”

While Roger saw him off, Luka stayed in the dark of the interrogation room, trying to make sense of what they’d been told. Specifically the last bit was haunting him. _He seemed afraid._ No matter how Luka looked at it, there was no reason—at least that he could think of—as to why the culprit would fear his own victim. Could it be that they were new to crime and were unnerved? Even that seemed highly unlikely. After all, they were gutsy enough to attempt a kidnapping.

Later, the autopsy results for the murder victim came in. Their team of five huddled around a table as they examined the pictures splayed out across the tabletop. Luka, Jalil, Theo, Ali and Roger all stared down at the pictures, accustomed to the sight of blood but no less disgusted.

Pictures of Claire’s neck, hands, back and abdomen were spread out; all displayed horrid injuries, ranging in colors from bluish-purple to the unmistakable wine red of blood.

“Her nails are all ripped up,” Jalil muttered as he pointed at the picture of her hands. “There’s also some cuts here on her palms. She was fighting back.”

“The murderer must have pushed her down onto the ground first,” Ali added. “Look at her back—there’s imprints of gravel and rocks as if they dug into her back.”

Roger nodded. “Right. And most important of all—the murderer wasn’t skilled with a knife.” He pushed the picture of her abdomen to the center of the table so everyone could see. “Look—the cut opens up in all directions. The knife must have moved while it was in her body, which means that the murderer was most likely holding it blade up. And everyone knows that holding a knife blade down is the most effective way to injure.”

That was their chief; truly amazing at his job. But Luka couldn’t help but frown when Roger continued with, “We need to focus on catching both the murderer and the kidnapper. We can’t slack off.”

“Hold on,” Luka interrupted, drawing all attention to him. “How do you know they’re two different people?”

“What?”

“The murderer and the kidnapper,” Luka specified. “I think they’re the same person.”

A crease formed between Roger’s brows. “How did you come to that conclusion?”

“Like you said, the murderer wasn’t skilled with a knife. And on her neck, there are bruises.” They all looked to the last, neglected picture. The spotted blue-black imprints on her neck vaguely resembled fingers. “I think he was trying to make her pass out, and when he failed, tried to threaten her with a knife. He accidentally stabbed her in doing so.”

“That…” Roger stammered. Luka bulldozed on.

“Besides, the two crimes happened within such a tight time range—and in the same area. Do you _really_ think this could just be a coincidence? It had to have been the same person.”

Roger stared at the pictures in deep thought for quite some time. Nobody dared to make a peep of noise. Finally, after what felt like hours, he grunted.

“We should recheck this with the kidnapping victim’s wounds. Luka, go to the hospital,” Roger ordered. “Check her wounds to see if they’re similar to Claire’s. If you’re correct, there should be marks around her neck.” He nodded to the rest of the team. “We’ll take turns standing guard in the hospital once Luka is done.”

There was a chorus of general agreement. Luka gathered the pictures from the table before heading out, itching to confirm what he just knew had to be true.

...

No matter what, Marinette just couldn’t shake off the memory of the scream. It echoed in her ears, making her look around even though she knew it was just her brain playing tricks on her. It definitely didn’t help that on the news, she’d seen that the kidnap-attempter had gotten away (although she was very glad that the victim was now in the hospital).

 And the initial suspicion she’d had, which she had also forgotten, came back to circle around in her head: that the murderer had something to do with Adrien’s threats. And now she had a feeling that the murderer had something to do with the kidnapper…?

But it made no sense!

“My hunches are awful,” Marinette grumbled. She vigorously rubbed her already disheveled hair and then her eyes. She’d been so distraught about the kidnapping that she’d hardly slept for two or three hours and woke up super early, before the sun had even risen. Alya was still passed out on the chaise, despite also hearing the scream last night and watching the instant news coverage with Marinette an hour later. Then again, Alya didn’t know about the threats Adrien got, so she couldn’t possibly have the same foreboding feeling that Marinette got when she thought about it.

She’d tried drawing up a flow chart of sorts, too. There were currently three large labels on her whiteboard reading: **STALKER, KIDNAPPER** and **MURDERER**. She was trying to write possible connections between them, but it was proving to be difficult when she had next to zero information on all three things.

She first had to solve the problem of Adrien’s stalker. After all, that was her job. But she just couldn’t shake the feeling that she had to visit the hospital and see the victim. Maybe looking at the body would help her fill in the **KIDNAPPER** portion of her flow chart… although Marinette suspected that she’d most likely feel sick to the stomach.

The feeling in her body pulled strong, though, so she didn’t have much choice.

Marinette peeked out the window. The sun had barely begun to rise. She could make it to the hospital and spend some time there before she had to be at work.

Marinette scribbled a note on a post-it for Alya (‘left for work early, don’t worry’) and stuck it on the snoozing girl’s forehead before getting ready. She collected her things, hastily erased the whiteboard as a last-minute decision, and made her way downstairs where her early-rising baker parents were awake and getting ready for the day.

“Marinette?” Sabine said, bewildered. She paused in the middle of wiping down the front counter. “You’re up early today.”

“Oh—right. I…” Marinette stammered, unable to make up an excuse. She’d completely forgotten about her parents in her hurry.

Tom came out from the kitchen where he’d been listening from. “Just be careful,” he told Marinette. A hearty smile found its way on his face. “You’re awfully excited for your job. Even though yesterday was so tiring for you.”

Marinette stared for a second, but quickly improvised. “Y-yeah.” Marinette laughed with some semblance of relief as she latched on to the excuse provided. “I just really want to do a good job.”

“It becomes like that when you love what you do.” Tom pointedly ignored the look Sabine was sending him. “Go now, and don’t forget to eat.”

“Right.” Marinette grabbed a croissant and leaned over the counter to kiss her parents on the cheek. “I’ll see you tonight!” She ran out the door. Sabine waited three seconds before rounding on Tom.

“There’s something else going on,” she berated. “Why would you…” She trailed off. Her expression softened when she saw Tom staring in the direction that Marinette had left with a crumpled looking expression on his face.

“Let’s just trust her,” he suggested despite sounding so regretful himself. “Our Marinette is an adult. She may still live with us but… she’s on her own now.”

Sabine sighed, placing a hand on Tom’s arm and following his gaze. “You’re right. Time really does fly, doesn’t it?”

_…_

Marinette rushed into the hospital and headed straight for the inquiry desk without thinking much about anything else. Thankfully, the lobby was still fairly empty since it was so early in the morning, but Marinette still managed to roughly bump shoulders with a doctor in passing. She whirled around with an apology.

“I’m so sorry!” She gasped, slightly out of breath from running all the way from the bus stop to the hospital. The doctor stayed silent, but nodded back to her. Behind a surgical face mask and thick black frames, nothing was visible but his eyes and coarse black hair. Faintly in the back of her mind, Marinette registered how long and thick the lashes framing the doctor’s eyes were—especially for a man. _Always picking up on useless details,_ Marinette scolded herself as she turned away. _Focus._ She made it to the desk where the receptionist waited.

“Excuse me, could you please tell me which room Danielle Aude is in?” The woman at the desk raised a brow.

“Are you related to her?” Marinette stilled. She had forgotten all about visiting policies at hospitals—she didn’t even know the victim. And her excuse about having a gut instinct likely wouldn’t fly, either.

Just as she opened her mouth to try and spout some nonsense, someone called her name. “Marinette?” She whirled around and saw Luka standing at the entrance. He walked up next to her and showed his license and badge to the lady at the receptionist.

“I’m Detective Couffaine. I’m here to watch guard over Danielle Aude,” he explained. The receptionist gestured to Marinette.

“Is she with you?” Marinette and Luka exchanged a brief glance. She wasn’t sure what he saw when he looked at her, but whatever it was, it made him nod at the receptionist.

“Yes, she is.”

“Alright, Danielle Aude’s room is room 203.”

Marinette was ready to shoot off like a bullet the second she heard the room number, but she was stopped in her tracks by Luka who quickly stepped in her way. She bumped her head roughly into his chest. “Ow!”

Luka grabbed her hand and led her away from the desk. “What are you doing here?” Marinette, who’d been rubbing her forehead, paused.

“Huh?”

“Don’t you have work?” Luka asked. “Why are you here? And why were you asking about Danielle Aude’s room?”

Marinette paled. This was not good. How was she supposed to explain to Luka that she had a gut feeling about the kidnapper being related to the murderer and stalker? In fact, Luka didn’t even know that she had to catch a stalker. He didn’t even know about her _super strength!_ If she didn’t come up with a lie quick, all of her hard work to keep him thinking that she was a normal girl would come crashing down.

“Err… work… I—“ An idea suddenly presented itself to Marinette and she rolled with it. “Since UMS 3 is being released today it’s really hectic at work, so Adri—I mean, my boss asked me to pick up some files from here...for his own appointment that he had a while ago.” She wanted to slap herself once she finished. Who had checkups at a hospital?

Luka raised an eyebrow. “What’s that got to do with Danielle Aude?”

Marinette winced. “Well… she doesn’t really have to do with work. I just…” Marinette deflated. Luka’s expression softened and placed his hands on her shoulders, bringing her full attention to his face.

“I know you’re worried,” he said gently. “But I’m taking care of things. The police are handling everything.” Marinette nodded along to his words in a trance-like state. She was busier listening to his voice, which sounded like honey, than anything else. _Luka could still sing if he wanted to..._ “So don’t worry too much, alright?”

Marinette snapped out of her trance. “U-um, yeah. But I came here really early, so I—“ She steeled herself then blurted out loudly, “I could keep you company!” Her face reddened in mortification at the sheer volume with which she’d said that. The woman at the reception desk was shooting her a suspicious look now. “If you want,” Marinette finished with an embarrassed whisper.

Luka regarded her for a long while, his eyes moving side to side as he gazed at her face. She was positive that she could die on the spot right then and there. Finally, though, he eased up on the intensity. One corner of his mouth quirked up in a little appreciative half-smile.

“Alright,” he conceded. “But it’s not going to be fun standing guard for a hospital room.”

“T-that’s fine,” Marinette laughed, breathless. She was still in disbelief that she’d even managed to do that—and that he’d actually accepted, above all. He’d been so busy lately that even _this_ felt special, though the circumstances were dire.

 _Right. The circumstances._ As Luka turned away Marinette slapped her own cheeks to bring her back into reality. _You’re here on a mission, Marinette! Don’t act like a lovesick schoolgirl now._

As they made their way to Danielle’s room, Luka nudged Marinette’s arm. “I need to go to the bathroom really quick. Don’t let anyone into the room, unless it’s a doctor or nurse.” Luka took his detective’s badge and placed it in Marinette’s hand. “If anyone asks who you are, just flash them this and tell them you’re standing guard. It should be enough.” Marinette nodded along, a bit too focused on the feeling of his hand holding hers.

All too soon, he let go and left for the bathroom. Marinette was almost inclined to sink down on the bench opposite Danielle’s door with a sigh, possibly have an internal squealing-session over how well this morning had gone—but a glance through the little window in Danielle’s door made Marinette forget all about what just happened. She slowly crept forward until her nose was pressed against the glass. Through the crosshatch of the screen, she saw Danielle laying on the bed.

Danielle couldn’t have been any older than Marinette. In fact, she might have even been two or three years younger. She was slim and her auburn colored hair lay in a ratty, tangled mess around her shoulders, a far cry from the silky tresses shown on hospital patients in movies. But her hair was the least of it. Her nose and mouth were concealed with an oxygen mask and gauzy patches were positioned on her forehead, cheeks and part of her jaw. The patches didn’t stop blood from seeping through, leaving red blotched around her face. Dark rings underlined her closed eyes, standing out even more against her sickly pale skin. If Marinette squinted she could see mottled bruises the color of raisins on Danielle’s neck. And this was just her neck-up—Marinette had no idea what lay underneath the hospital gown.

Marinette was right before—she felt sick at the sight. But for some reason, she just couldn’t look away. _The person who did this might be related to whoever is after Adrien,_ Marinette thought. She tried imagining Adrien in a similar condition, but found that she felt nauseous before her mind’s eye had even finished constructing the scene.

The sound of someone clearing their throat made Marinette jump away from the door with a startled yelp. She overcame her initial shock and saw the same doctor from before standing at Danielle’s door. With Marinette out of the way, he entered wordlessly.

Marinette stepped back and sank down on the bench at last. She scrubbed at her face. The three hours of sleep were already catching up to her—she was used to heavily sleeping, so it was no wonder. Marinette’s thoughts were all scrambled and now she was paying attention to the most worthless things.

The doctor left the room a mere minute later. Probably checking up on Danielle’s heart rate or… whatever it was that doctors did.  Marinette listened to the click of the door and leaned her head back against the wall. She thought about the body that lay feet from her on the other side of a wall. Who could possibly do such a thing, and then live with themselves enough to run away from it?

She’d been sitting for a few minutes when thumping noises caught her attention. A look of confusion crossed Marinette’s face before she realized it was coming from Danielle’s room. Her face changed into one of abject horror. She quickly launched to her feet and peeked through the glass again. What she saw made her heart stop for a moment, then speed up in a mixture of panic and fear.

Danielle’s body was convulsing on the hospital bed—violently so, even as the girl remained unconscious. The beeping on the heart monitor sped up and the line on the screen spiked. And was her mouth frothing under the oxygen mask? Marinette began panicking and tried to call out. “Um—she—the patient room—room 203—“ _Is now the time to twist your stupid tongue?!_ To Marinette’s relief, though, the same doctor who’d just been inside was there in a heartbeat, with a gurney no less. In fact, he was ready for Danielle far quicker than Marinette thought normal, as if he was prepared for the moment she’d convulse like that—but then again, Marinette didn’t know how hospitals worked. She was just glad that someone was here.

Marinette opened the door for the doctor, who rolled the gurney inside the room. He transferred the patient’s body and covered it with a sheet. Marinette watched all of this from her place by the door where she hovered, frightened and worried. As he exited the room with the patient, the doctor calmly instructed Marinette, “Tell the detective that Mme. Aude is being taken for surgery.” The words made something in Marinette’s mind protest—something was odd—but in the heat of the moment with her heart pounding for no good reason, Marinette disregarded the little voice protesting in her head. “Alright,” she conceded, watching the doctor wheel her away. Right as they disappeared from sight, Luka arrived from the same direction the doctor had left in. He saw Marinette standing near the open door and rushed over.

“What happened?”

Marinette gnawed at her lip. “Something started happening with her, so the doctor took her away for surgery.”

Just then, another doctor rounded the corner into their hall. He, too, had thick black frames and a face mask, but was taller than the other doctor, with—and Marinette despised that she noticed it again—shorter lashes. He stuck his head inside the empty room.

“Where is Mme. Aude?”

Luka warily faced the doctor. “Who are you?”

“I’m her doctor,” the new man explained. With those three words Marinette felt her knees buckle. She placed a hand on the wall to support herself, hating the ringing that was suddenly sounding in her ears, or the fact that she was suddenly cold.

No. _No._

“Y-you’re not the same man as before,” she choked out. Luka stared between them for a total of two seconds, completely wide-eyed, before cursing and positively _exploding_ off in the direction he’d just come from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :O !!!!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: this chapter has... like... some violence? Not really gore. It's pretty tame, but I thought I should probably put a warning anyways. The crime/mystery aspect makes it kinda obvious, but just in case the change in pace still seems like a kick in the teeth... well... here ya go :)

Shit. Shit. _Shit._ He had _known_ something was fishy when the doctor had walked past him with that gurney—the gurney with the cut-up feet sticking out from under the white sheet. Those cut up feet he _knew,_ he’d read about them in the report, yet he’d still been stupid enough to watch the very person he was supposed to be protecting get rolled away by the criminal—the criminal who’d had the nerve to break into the hospital in broad daylight!

Luka pounded down corridors, narrowly avoiding staff walking through and ignoring their gazes as he sped by. His surroundings became a blur as he tried to pick up his pace. Finally he broke out into the open lobby, but by this time, there were more people milling about—none of which were the ones he was looking for. He ran forward a few paces and whirled around, not even noticing how hard he was breathing. His heartbeat pulsed in his throat as he turned and turned. _Where could he have gone?!_ He ran past the lobby to the other wing of the hospital where there were escalators and scanned the bottom floor. Nothing except some nurses, patients in better health walking around, general hospital staff…

…and a man dressed in all black rolling an unconscious girl on a wheelchair out the door. An unconscious girl with cut up feet.

Cursing, Luka burst into action, going down the stairs three at a time. By the time he’d made it down, the wheelchair was already out the spinning doors, and when he followed, the situation was even worse outside. A multitude of people were walking around as they made their way to work. Luka craned his neck, frantically searching for the wheelchair. When his sight finally fell on it, though, his heart sank to his stomach.

The wheelchair was empty. And it was in front of the entrance to the underground parking lot.

Just as Luka ran inside the underground parking lot, a car sped off, screeching on the asphalt and leaving a burning smell as it did so. Luka gritted his teeth so hard he felt his jaw pop. _I just let the culprit take away the second victim._

Unbidden, in the privacy of the empty parking lot, Luka let out an enraged shout.

Later, as he trudged back to the hospital, he ran into Marinette in the lobby. She had a crumpled expression on her face, and Luka felt even more horrible when he realized that she was blaming herself for _his_ mistake.

“Marinette, I know what you’re thinking,” he said as soon as he reached her. He bent down to her level so he could look her directly in her eyes, since she wouldn’t stop looking down. She still wouldn’t meet his eyes. “It’s not your fault. It’s my fault for leaving my post.” His fingers itched to brush her hair back, but he stopped himself.

She finally met his gaze at that. Her lip was quivering. “But… I noticed how the doctor got there so fast with a gurney when she started—and I—“

“It’s not your fault,” Luka firmly repeated. “Don’t worry, alright? Danielle will be fine, he won’t kill her. And we’ll catch him soon.” Inside, his own words sparked anger in his belly. He _could have_ caught the criminal today. He could have ensured Danielle’s safety. But he was just _such an idiot,_ and now here he was, promising the very thing that he couldn’t keep.

Marinette’s nose wrinkled. She looked confused for some reason. “Yeah…” Something struck a wrong chord within her. What was it? For some reason Luka’s words didn’t sit right. _We’ll catch him soon. He won’t kill her._

_Him. He._

Her eyes suddenly widened. Luka furrowed his eyebrows. “What? What is it?”

“I heard the voice,” Marinette whispered. “I heard…” She looked to Luka so suddenly, and with so much intensity that he jerked back.

“The criminal isn’t a man. It’s a woman.”

…

Humming echoed throughout the chamber as Lila placed Danielle Aude down on a thin mattress. The frame of the bed was old and rusted, but four pairs of gleaming steel cuffs three inches long and half an inch thick hung off of both ends of the bed. Lila clicked Danielle’s skinny wrists and ankles into the contraptions.

Personally, she didn’t really like the place. While it did have two floors and a convenient number of prison cells surrounding the main floor where she’d set everything up, making for a handy system in which she’d be able to view all of her prisoners (if it even came to that), it was just so dingy. With one far up, yellow lightbulb being all that there was to light up the fairly big area, it was dark and flickering most of the time. There was a consistent noise of dripping water from a broken pipe that wouldn’t stop no matter what, and the rusted hand cuffs that were already there on the bed frame were just so old-fashioned—but Lila couldn’t get them off, even with a crowbar. But she supposed it was a fair price to pay for a hideout that none of the dumb police would be able to find.

Lila tore off the surgical face mask and black wig, grateful to be able to feel the cool air on her face and scalp again, if only for a moment. The glasses and coat came off, too, but she stayed dressed in the padded black jacket and pants she’d worn underneath. She pulled a flesh colored mask over her head and hummed some more as she waited for her guest to wake up.

This girl was supposed to have been the second, but instead she was special guest #1. Truthfully, the murder had been an accident. Lila was just trying to scare the first girl so she’d stop flailing around, but her hand had slipped. Oh, well. Since she’d died so easily it just proved that she wasn’t the one that Lila was looking for, so nothing was lost, she supposed. But this girl… she had managed to escape Lila one time. Perhaps she had fate on her side, and that meant…

“Could you be a lucky little ladybug?” Lila cooed as she stroked Danielle’s battered face. The sight caused her a little bit of pleasure. _She’d_ done that. It felt good to see her hard work represented.

As Lila leaned over the girl, her eyes slowly fluttered. When they fully opened and focused, she instantly let out an ear-splitting scream, an exact replica of the one she’d screamed when Lila had approached her in the street. She thrashed against her binds and began to wail.

Lila rolled her eyes, though it wasn’t visible behind the flesh mask that covered her whole head. _Oh, bother._ It was so annoying when girls screamed and cried like that. Lila already had a feeling that this girl wasn’t the one, but it was worth a shot. “Stop crying.” When Danielle kept crying, Lila slammed a fist right next to where her head rested, yanking on some of her hair in the process. “I said, _stop crying._ ” Danielle quieted down, but sobs wracked her whole body and tears leaked out of her eyes. The poor thing was shaking where she lay.

“P-please don’t kill me,” she said in a strangled voice. “Let me… let me go home, please…”

“Break out,” Lila said flatly. She straightened up and eyed Danielle with disdain. “Break those cuffs.”

Danielle looked like a lamb before slaughter. She had a pleading look in her eye as she gazed up at Lila pitifully, hyperventilating. “I—I don’t—I can’t do…” Honestly, she didn’t need to say anything. All it took was that pathetic look in her eyes for Lila to know she wasn’t it. The eyes that she remembered had been infuriatingly ambitious ones, nothing like the pitiful ones that the lamb in front of her was displaying.

Lila scoffed in disgust before kicking the bed frame, scaring Danielle out of her wits. She bit her lip to keep from crying loudly as Lila kicked the bed again, shaking Danielle on the bed. Her head banged against the bed frame, causing one of her forehead wounds to open up again and soak the gauze on top of it red.

“You’re useless,” Lila snarled. “And to think I really thought it would be you because you managed to escape me… so I risked everything at that hospital for nothing?!”

Danielle shook in fear, whimpering. _Please, God… anybody… please get me out of here!_

**...**

_8 years ago_

Lila roamed around the store, eyeing several of the items on display. Much of it was behind glass, which was a shame, but many good items were still out for her to pick. After all, being a Gabriel brand store, the perfume, watches and jewelry might be locked up, but the clothes would still be worth a lot. Lila plucked several hangers off of racks, hardly looking at the clothing that she was picking up. She was more focused on being an inconspicuous as possible. Any time she met a fellow customer’s eye, she made sure to smile sweetly so that they smiled back or, even better, blushed. Erased any suspicion of her.

Lila made her way to the cash register when her arms had been properly laden with items. For this day, she’d dressed up especially nice. A fur jacket, dress and heels replaced her normal street attire. Oversized sunglasses were perched on her face—partly to look posh, partly to hide her face. Big jewels hung from her ears and weighed her fingers down, the fingers that held a snakeskin hand clutch. Red was painted onto pursed lips.

“Excuse me,” she said in a buttery voice to the cashier. She’d specifically picked the one with a round, open face. Her entire face was dotted with freckles and she nibbled on her lower lip from time to time. The perfect candidate. The girl looked up and, as Lila had guessed she would, straightened up at the sight of her. Lila’s outfit made her look like a grown woman, an _intimidating_ one, that the teenage cashier in front of her would be no match for. “I want to return these items. They simply did not cooperate with the rest of my wardrobe, you see.”

“Oh, I see.” The girl nodded. “Do you have receipts?”

Lila cocked a sculpted eyebrow at that. The calculated, desired effect took place: the girl in front of her shrunk back. “Receipts? Was I supposed to bring those simply to return some items?”

“Er, well…” The cashier nervously tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Did you buy it on credit card?”

Lila scoffed and looked to the ceiling at that. “ _No,_ I used cash. Look, I have the tags on and everything.” She showed the new items to the cashier. “They’re unused, so please return my money!”

The cashier shifted, then looked down at her hands. “Umm… sorry, but I can’t do that…”

Lila waited for exactly four seconds before feigning annoyance. “Oh, alright.” She waved a hand in the air. “Could you at least give me a bag?”

The girl looked glad that Lila asked. “Right, I can do that for you.” She rummaged around under the front desk to take out a bag. Lila felt victory swell in her chest and fought off a smirk. However, just as the cashier was about to hand over the bag stamped with Gabriel’s logo, a hand grabbed her wrist. The bag remained suspended in the air between them.

“Huh?” Lila and the cashier both looked over. A girl who looked to be Lila’s age, about seventeen, held the cashier’s wrist midair. She was dressed in a baggy red hoodie with big, black spots on them and pink jeans underneath. The huge hood was flipped over her face so her features were muddled. However, what had Lila’s hackles rising was the glare that her icy blue eyes, clear from beneath the shadow, were sending her. She almost glared back before remembering about her sunglasses.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Lila snapped. The girl’s frigid glare only intensified, if that was even possible.

“I should be asking you that,” she responded icily. “You just tried stealing all of those items.”

Lila froze. _No, no. Fix it._ Her pause lasted no more than a second. “What? Are you trying to frame me?” She made a show of looking the girl up and down. “ _Me,_ the thief? Look at how you’re dressed! And you’re lurking around in a Gabriel store? Between us, I think the thief must be _you._ ”

The girl turned to the cashier and released her wrist. “Look on the security tapes. You’ll see her picking items up off the shelves. She came in here empty handed.” She turned back and glared at Lila again so _infuriatingly_ that Lila wanted to slap and claw at her face till there was nothing left of those stupid eyes. “I was watching.”

Because of her anger, she realized too late that the cashier was now watching her with suspicion as she slowly reached for the black phone situated on the desk. Lila realized that she was calling in security. The clothes dropped between them as Lila chucked her heels off and dashed for the exit, shoving past the security guards at the front and running into the mall’s heavy crowd. She kept running and shoving past customers until she found a bathroom and ducked inside, breathing heavily. Luckily it was empty, but…

Lila snarled as she smashed a fist into the counter, ignoring the pain that flared up in her knuckles soon after. “That _bitch!”_ She struck her fist again and again until the fake rings she’d slipped on shattered and sliced her fingers open. The sight of blood did little to calm her down. At some point, her sunglasses had fallen off and they lay on the bathroom floor, displaying a fake brand’s logo on the inside. She kept smashing her fist into the counter, watching blood smear on it.

“If I find her again, I’ll—“ Just at that moment, the restroom’s door creaked and the same girl entered. It was almost a mockery, the way she stood in front of Lila again as if on purpose. They stared at each other for a few silent seconds, the door swinging shut, before Lila had turned the girl around and slammed her against the wall by the throat. She bared her teeth at the stranger in a vicious half-gnarl, half-grin.

“I’ll show you what happens when you stick your nose where it doesn’t belong,” she growled, digging her nails into the girl’s neck. Her rage only grew when the girl remained expressionless, looking at her with those same _stupid_ eyes. Where was the fear? The screaming, the kicking, the tears? Begging to let her go?

Most of all… why couldn’t her nails draw blood from her neck? Lila pressed even harder but it almost felt like her nails couldn’t sink into the soft flesh.

The girl grabbed Lila’s wrist, much like she’d held the cashier, and wrenched it off of her neck. Lila’s whole body jolted with the action and her eyes flared. _What the hell? Why is she so strong?_ She was clutching Lila’s wrist so hard that she could feel her hand going numb, but the girl’s knuckles weren’t even white.

Lila tried to tug her wrist free, only to find that it wouldn’t budge. Even more—the girl had her rooted to the spot just by holding onto her wrist. Lila curled her lips back. “Let _go!”_

“Take this as a lesson,” the girl said quietly. The more she looked at Lila with those flaming eyes, the more Lila wanted to gouge them out. “Don’t lie.” With that, she finally let the struggling Lila go, who stumbled back and hit her head against a bathroom stall. Despite the spinning pain that erupted in her head, Lila lurched at her again almost instantly. “Don’t you try to teach _me_ a lesson, you little piece of—“

She felt a pressure on her head. When she looked up, it was one finger pressed to her forehead. And no matter how hard she pushed forward, she just couldn’t budge. The ladybug looked angry now. “And don’t go attacking people when they teach you a lesson, either.” With that, she pushed Lila back again with the one finger. Lila’s whole body swayed back with the action once again; this time she stumbled. The ladybug strode out the bathroom purposefully, leaving Lila standing there in the middle of a public bathroom, ragged, bleeding, and disheveled.

Whoever she was, she was stronger than the average person. Lila didn’t know by how much, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t care. The stranger had humiliated her, exposed her, almost gotten her caught, ruined her—and then tried to teach her a _lesson?_ What a piece of scum. It wasn’t _her_ business to try and make Lila change. She was doing perfectly fine on her own until the stupid bug had to come and interfere.

Lila was nothing if not exact in her revenge. She’d ruined a boy’s social life back in _collège_ when he’d refused to give her answers to a test. She’d made restaurants and bakeries go out of business by saying she saw rats when they wouldn’t offer her free food. She even ruined a singer’s career when he’d refused to date her by claiming sexual assault. After all, it was their fault—what was it to them to just give her what she wanted? Was it _that_ hard?

So she _definitely_ wouldn’t let this girl go. She didn’t care how strong the girl could be, or why. A little muscle never saved someone from her wrath. “I’ll kill her,” Lila hissed, glaring at the door which she’d exited out of seconds ago with pure hatred in her eyes. No—she’d catch her and torture her and make her wish for death instead.

It was a punishment befitting what the bug had done, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eek...  
> ALSO that whole Lila scene is from a movie but IDK what movie it is I just remember seeing the post on Instagram with that clip and I suddenly remembered it while writing this and was like "that's perfect".


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, I almost forgot to post... BUT I DIDN'T! Here we are! :)  
> Looks like the tag of Lila being a psycho was no underestimation. She's wild.  
> Enjoy! :D

Marinette was reluctant to go to work the day after Danielle got kidnapped from the hospital, but she’d already skipped the day before, so she’d been to work a whopping total of one day. And she didn’t even have any angry calls from Adrien. She almost wished that she did so that she wouldn’t be feeling so crappy about it on top of everything else.

Even though Luka had reassured her, she still felt horrible. The criminal had been right there in front of her. How much pain could Marinette have stopped if she’d just swung a fist at them? How many people could she have saved if she hadn’t been so naïve? Now the criminal had escaped again. A voice inside her told her that she couldn’t have possibly known, but guilt still gnawed away at her.

She’d gotten home at noon yesterday and gone straight to her room without so much as a greeting to her parents. When her parents had knocked at her door after closing up the bakery a few hours later, she’d been embarrassingly quick in spilling everything (Marinette wasn’t one to hide her feelings from her parents, after all). They’d petted her hair and hugged her as she cried and said the exact same things that Luka did. She did feel better, but felt pathetic at the same time for just weeping while a poor girl was taken victim who knows where by a criminal _freak._ She was supposed to have super-strength, but was utterly powerless when it really mattered.

As for the “criminal freak”, Marinette almost couldn’t believe it herself. _It was a woman._ She must have worn padded and baggy clothing to hide her curves. And for some reason… she seemed vaguely familiar to Marinette, but she just couldn’t pinpoint it no matter how hard she thought about it.

With a groan, she sat up in bed. She went to bed at seven o’clock last night without even eating dinner and passed out as soon as her head hit the pillow thanks to the three hours of sleep she got the night before. Now, after twelve straight hours of sleep, she felt well-rested. And also starved. Marinette held a hand to her loudly growling stomach.

Marinette slowly got ready, hoping against hope that this day would be better than the last.

…

Marinette looked up at the same glass multiplex belonging to Chat Noir games, this time with dread instead of excitement. Sure, Adrien was a goofy dork, but he was also a boss. Surely he must have some level of discipline and sternness about him to be able to manage such a huge company. More importantly… he was _her_ boss. She was supposed to come to work every day and had failed at doing that after one measly day. _My first full time job and it doesn’t even last as long as my part time jobs,_ Marinette thought with a sigh. She was trying to convince herself that it didn’t matter to her a lot that she was probably, most likely getting kicked out of Chat Noir Games. After all, she’d only gone to work for a day—a disastrous day, at that. She wasn’t even in the position she wanted.

But in truth, Marinette’s heart was stinging. She ruined a perfectly good chance to have a job in a great place, with a great boss (and great pay) just because of a stupid hunch that had ended up ruining her.

Marinette made her way inside, dread building up with every step she took. When she finally stood in front of Adrien’s office, she had to steel herself with a deep breath before going inside.

Everything was normal inside. It felt weird to see the office, clean and filled with books and gadgets, after witnessing the chaos at the hospital the day before. It was even weirder to see Adrien sitting at his desk, typing on his computer. The office was like a different world, especially after what she experienced yesterday.

He looked up at the sound of the door. When he saw Marinette, he stood up. She involuntarily closed her eyes, preparing for shouting, cursing, or maybe both.

“Are you alright?”

Marinette opened her eyes, then blinked in disbelief. She couldn’t believe her own ears. “What?”

Adrien was frowning. “You didn’t come to work yesterday.”

She blinked again. “I…yes, um…” If she brought up being fired, would it give him ideas? Or was he just holding off for the moment? In the end, she settled with, “S-sorry… for not coming yesterday.”

Adrien’s shoulders relaxed. She hadn’t realized that they’d been tense. “It’s fine. Yesterday was actually the release of UMS 3, so I was stuck inside all day. You wouldn’t have had to do anything anyways.” He tilted his head and regarded her with an intelligent gaze. “By the way… what’s the status quo on the kidnapping victim?”

Marinette’s heart jolted at the very mention. Morosely, she admitted, “She got kidnapped from the hospital yesterday.” _From right under my nose._

“Really?” Adrien looked oddly fascinated. He tapped two fingers to his cheek in thought. “I guess that’s where you were yesterday, then.” At Marinette’s shocked look, he elaborated. “I got a call from your friend yesterday—Alya, the one who we saw at your bakery. She said that you must have been off on some business and probably wouldn’t come to work. Said that you left her a note that was a total lie because you would never, ever leave early for work even if it would save your life.” Marinette suppressed a groan. That was so, _so_ Alya. She didn’t know whether to be grateful or exasperated. But at least she wasn’t getting fired.

“In any case,” Adrien continued, bringing Marinette’s attention back to the present, “The way this criminal’s mind works seems so interesting. How they killed one victim but kept the other alive… _and_ were gutsy enough to kidnap their second victim from a hospital in broad daylight? They must be brilliant.”

A little sorely, Marinette grumbled, “A criminal is hardly something to get excited about.”

Adrien didn’t notice Marinette’s sour tone as he began pacing. “And on top of everything else, they succeeded. I think that this is what happened: he wanted the first victim alive, tried to use a knife when she resisted, and accidentally killed her. If he wanted to murder her from the start, he would have stabbed her in a fatal spot to begin with.” Adrien nodded at his own explanation. Marinette found herself completely drawn in despite herself. “That’s why the kidnapper and murderer must be the same person. He didn’t use a knife the second time and succeeded… well, after a drawback anyways.”

Marinette couldn’t help but zone out as she processed the information. So her initial hunch _was_ right—the kidnapper and murderer were the same person. _Now all that’s left is figuring out about the stalker._ Out loud, though, all she said was, “The criminal is a woman.”

Adrien’s head snapped to meet her eyes. “What?”

“Yesterday at the hospital,” Marinette began, “I was there when the criminal kidnapped her. She told me to tell Luka that Danielle was in surgery and then ran away with her, and the voice was a woman’s—“

“Oh my God!” Adrien cried, running around his desk. He grabbed Marinette by the shoulders and assessed her face, seemingly unaware of her stunned reaction. “Are you saying that the culprit saw your face? The same culprit that killed and kidnapped two women?”

Marinette stammered, “B-but I’m strong…she can’t hurt me anyways.”

Adrien blinked. It seemed like he’d forgotten that fact, because he suddenly let go of Marinette and turned around to cough into a fist. “Err—right. Um, anyways…” Was he blushing? His ears were red. He snapped a finger in the air. “I have to go to a seminar today, actually. Since UMS 3 came out yesterday. Um—I already told you that. Anyways…” Marinette couldn’t help it. She giggled. Adrien paused in the action of rubbing the back of his neck. “What?”

“You’re so silly,” Marinette laughed. Adrien opened his mouth to reply when a ringtone pierced the air between them. Marinette took her phone out and saw that Luka was calling her. She instantly sobered up.

“Luka?” She said tentatively after picking up. After how nice he was to her yesterday, her sullen feelings towards him had softened. That was the way it had always been. Her emotions kept going all over the place because of him while he was none the wiser. But he’d probably been nice to her because she was shaken up by the incident—nothing more, nothing less. At least that was what she told herself.

“ _Hey, Marinette. Are you at work right now?”_

“Um, yes.” Marinette and Adrien met eyes as she spoke. “Why?”

_“I got a bodyguard for you.”_

Marinette gasped. “What?” A bodyguard for the bodyguard? “Why? You didn’t have to do that for me!” Adrien curiously cocked his head as he listened to Marinette.

_“Yes, I did,”_ Luka insisted. _“The culprit saw your face yesterday, and you spoke to him—er,_ her. _You need protection.”_

“But I don’t—“

_“It’s dangerous. He’s coming over to your workplace right now, so there’s no use in protesting.”_

Marinette, realizing she was fighting a losing battle, sighed. “Alright. Thanks… thanks a lot, Luka.”

_“Anything for you.”_ With that, the call clicked shut. She couldn’t help but stare at his icon after the call shut, mind spinning. Anything for you? _Anything for you?_ What the heck was that supposed to mean?

 Marinette looked up from her phone to see Adrien regarding her with a thoughtful expression on his face. For some reason, with his electric eyes locked on her she felt unsettled.

Before she could ask him why he was staring, he simply said, “You like Luka, don’t you?”

Marinette was immediately sputtering. Well, there was no use in denying it—she was a horrible liar and Adrien proved to be perceptive when he wanted to be. Instead she asked, “H-how did you know?”

Adrien snorted. “You’re easy to read. You show everything you’re thinking on your face.” Marinette scrunched up her nose before realizing she’d just proved his point. She forcibly relaxed her face muscles while he laughed and resisted the urge to smack him and accidentally break his bones. “I guess I can see why,” Adrien continued. He waggled his eyebrows expertly. “I remember Luka. He is very good looking.”

“That’s not why I like him!” Marinette blurted. “He… well, ever since _lycée …”_

How could she put it into words? That she was friends with Juleka Couffaine, Luka’s little sister, and went over to her house/boat/restaurant (err, abode) one day for a school project, and while waiting for Juleka to come out of the bathroom, she snooped around and accidentally stepped into Luka’s room? That Luka had been occupying the room at that time, and Marinette had been so startled that she whacked her head back against his room’s door? That he’d shot to his feet and checked her head with the softest look in his eyes and asked if she was alright? That ever since then, the more things they had in common, the more she fell for him, especially when he gave her gifts like his favorite guitar pick? That she fell even harder the second he would start to sing? That he had a way with words and would sometimes say sweet things to her that made her knees weak?

Answer _: she couldn’t._ “We’ve known each other for a while,” she lamely finished. Adrien regarded her with a tight sort of expression that she couldn’t decipher. She almost wished that he was like her, so she could easily see what he was thinking.

“So what did he call about?” He abruptly changed the topic. Marinette didn’t know why, but she was pretty glad for it.

“Well… I’m getting a bodyguard.” That was enough for Adrien’s pursed-lip expression to open up into a gape.

“ _What?”_

…

Adrien sat on his sofa, looking up incredulously at the sight before him: his bodyguard, and his bodyguard’s bodyguard standing before him in succession. The man assigned to Marinette was big, stoic, and beefy, the complete opposite of the bubbly and petite Marinette. He was what you’d imagine a stereotypical bodyguard to look like while Marinette was anything but. _How ironic._

“My name is Ivan Bruel,” he grunted. “I will be Mme. Dupain Cheng’s bodyguard.”

Adrien stood up and pulled the huge man aside. “Listen, Mr. Cop,” Adrien whispered, “Marinette doesn’t _need_ a bodyguard. You wouldn’t believe it, but she’s super strong. Seriously—try arm-wrestling her or something.” When Ivan did nothing but offer Adrien a flat stare, Adrien persisted. “I’m serious! You don’t need to do this.”

“I will be Mme. Dupain Cheng’s bodyguard until I receive further instructions,” he said flatly and walked back to Marinette’s side to hover over her like the bodyguard he was. Adrien pulled at his hair in frustration.

**...**

The drive to the seminar had been stifling with the awkward tension Ivan brought with him. Also, Adrien was busy giving lip service about how the police were totally useless with Ivan sitting right there… so... _awkward._ Marinette was more than glad to stand at the edge of the stage while Adrien gave his presentation on UMS 3’s release, whereas before she wasn’t sure she’d be totally happy with it. Oh, and of course Ivan was there to keep her company with his looming presence. All in all, it was just peachy.

The seminar, despite being about something so cool like UMS 3, was utterly boring as nitty-gritty details about the programming and such were discussed. A bunch of terms Marinette didn’t even recognize flew over her head, and she _knew_ video games. She looked out to the audience, fully engaged with the presentation (the audience was full of nerds like Adrien, she reckoned) and hid a yawn behind her hand. As her gaze travelled around the room, she did a double take when she saw someone in all black attire, including a face mask, standing on the other end of the stage across from her.

_“I get threats like these regularly. Recently, they’ve even started to follow me.”_ Adrien’s words from before floated back in her mind. Surely, that person dressed so suspiciously who was spying on Adrien didn’t belong, right? It had to be his stalker—and no stolen motorcycle to distract her now.

They noticed Marinette peering from across the stage and instantly flitted out of sight. Marinette quietly cursed under her breath as she tried craning her neck to see if they hid behind the curtains, but she couldn’t see anything in the darkness of the vast room.

The seminar finished. As lights clicked on and audience members began to chatter and get up, Marinette tried looking once again. The suspicious person was gone.

She, Adrien and Ivan headed out into the hall together. Adrien and Ivan veered into a bathroom. “We’ll be back,” Adrien called as the door swung shut. Marinette blinked as she was suddenly left alone. She thought it was just a girls thing to go to bathrooms together, but apparently not.

She leaned against the wall as she waited for her disparate companions to finish their business. As she was waiting, though, a person swathed in black, hood up, caught her attention again. _Is that them?_ Marinette pushed off of the wall and began following the stranger, forgetting about the two people in the bathroom who she was supposed to be waiting for.

She pushed through the crowd to stay hot on their heels. Was it just her, or were they weaving in and out? Were they trying to lose her? She persisted, picking up speed until they were closer than ever. Marinette reached out a hand and successfully grabbed their sleeve.

A man turned around. There was no face-mask on his face, and underneath his open hoodie he wore a bright green graphic T-shirt. “Oh. Sorry,” Marinette mumbled, letting go. _Man, I thought I was close._ When she finally made her way back to the bathroom, Adrien was standing outside, swiveling his head around a bit frantically. When he finally saw her, he relaxed but also frowned.

“Where did you go?”

“I thought I saw someone suspicious,” Marinette huffed. “When I was standing guard at the seminar I saw someone sketchy dressed in all black there.”

Adrien squinted at her. “Marinette, it’s the ones who _aren’t_ dressed like villains from comic books that are more suspicious—“ Just then, a man lurched out of the bathroom, shoved past Adrien and ran into the crowded hallway, cutting his sentence off. The two of them watched him go, wide-eyed, when Adrien suddenly asked, “Where’s Ivan?” They exchanged a brief glance before Adrien pushed back into the bathroom. When she heard him shout, Marinette barged inside without a second thought and gasped at what she saw.

Ivan sat on the floor of the bathroom, groaning. His hand clutched to his abdomen, where—Marinette noticed with horror—blood stained his fingers. Adrien was instantly on the grubby bathroom tile; his coat ripped off to ball up and apply pressure on Ivan’s wound. “Call an ambulance!”  Marinette fumbled with her phone before dialing 112 with shaking fingers.

It was only while they rode in the wailing vehicle with Ivan that she realized that the person who stabbed him was the stalker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, whoever is pulling the strings to stalk Adrien sure is... psycho...


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you thank you thank you everyone for all the comments on the previous chapter!!! They make my day. And I have to say, it is SO fun to see you guys speculate :)  
> Here is a new chapter. Enjoy!

Marinette walked in circles. Back in the hospital so soon, she wasn’t ready to be left alone with her thoughts, so she paced to take her mind off things. Adrien, while trying to appear calmer, was tapping his foot subconsciously. The hands that held his head were mussing up his hair as well.

A doctor with a clipboard appeared before them. Adrien stood up so fast that Marinette almost paced right into him.

“He’ll be fine,” the doctor assured. Marinette and Adrien simultaneously let out twin sighs of relief that they hadn’t known they’d been holding in. “In fact, the cut was relatively shallow. He’ll be out today.”

As the doctor left, Adrien sagged against the wall. Marinette looked to him questioningly. “What’s wrong? The doctor said Ivan will be fine.”

“That’s not it,” Adrien muttered. He straightened up again and looked down at Marinette. She realized then how much taller he was than her as she looked up to meet his eyes. “I didn’t know that my stalker would resort to stabbing,” he admitted. “I think this has gotten a lot more serious. You should quit.”

He was taken by surprise when Marinette just smiled up at him. “Are you kidding? Now you need my help more than ever. I’ll do my job and protect you.” Before he could feel _too_ touched, Marinette continued, “Do you know anyone who could possibly be behind it?”

A grimace found its way onto his face. “Yes. Actually, there’s more than one.”

Marinette took out her phone and navigated to her Notepad app. “Tell me all of it.”

Adrien smiled for a second at Marinette’s sheer focus, but quickly brought the corners of his mouth down again to get serious. “Alright. Firstly, there’s my father. He would have the most reason for me to get rid of Chat Noir games—he’s always been bugging me about inheriting Gabriel and stuff—but I ran away four years ago, and the threats started a month ago, so I don’t know why he would wait in between.” Marinette’s thumbs flew across her keypad as she listed all of it down.

“Then there’s my father’s secretary, Nathalie. She might want to bring me back because she’s basically my dad’s right-hand woman. But I don’t think she’s the one because…” Adrien paused in thought. “Well, she always looked out for me when my dad became really controlling. She told him to lay off when he was being too much and…” Adrien trailed off. Marinette watched him carefully as he closed his eyes. A long moment later he shook his head and opened them again. “Yeah, it’s not her.” Marinette duly noted this down.

“Finally, within my dad’s group, there’s my old bodyguard, Gorilla.” Marinette raised an eyebrow at the nickname but didn’t comment on it. “His motivations… to be honest, I don’t know. He was just my guard and stuff. Always quiet. Huge guy. Kinda like Ivan.” Adrien chuckled. “I don’t know why he’d go to all the trouble to bring me back. In fact, I probably caused him lots of trouble by sneaking off all the time. Maybe he’s gladder now that I’m gone.

“Now, outside my family, there’s the Bourgeois family who my father is always talking with.”

Marinette gaped. “Bourgeois, as in mayor of the city and his family, including fashion designer Audrey Bourgeois, Bourgeois?”

Adrien nodded. “Yeah. You seem to know about them.”

Marinette scoffed. “Who doesn’t? Although the stories that circulate them aren’t exactly the best…” At Adrien’s inquiring look, she dryly said, “The mayor is supposed to be a pushover for his bitchy, spoiled daughter, while Audrey is a heartless she-demon.” A snort burst out of Adrien’s mouth and he immediately slapped a hand over it.

“Well,” he said in amusement, “that’s… kind of true. Audrey was always getting on my back to marry Chloe. For her, motivations would include me getting rid of Chat Noir Games because she wants Chloe to have big parts of Gabriel, it being a fashion company and all, and Chloe could only get those by marrying me—if I owned half of Gabriel like I’m supposed to, anyways.”

“As for Chloe… she was my childhood friend. She _is_ a bit much sometimes, but I don’t think she has any truly malicious intentions.” Adrien wrinkled his nose thoughtfully. “I also don’t think she has enough… um, finesse to carry out an elaborate stalking plan to get me back to the company.” This time Marinette giggled. “And Mayor Bourgeois… he’s pretty much spineless. I don’t think he’s anything to worry about.” Her giggles increased.

Marinette finished taking notes down. She noticed that Adrien hadn’t mentioned anything about a mom. She wondered about it briefly, but decided not to ask. If he didn’t mention it, it probably wasn’t her place to ask. “So, your threatener wants you to give up Chat Noir games, and most likely to take back Gabriel.” Adrien nodded.

“Oh, and Marinette…” She looked up from her phone. Adrien was rubbing the back of his neck again. He opened his mouth, looking like he was going to ask her something, only to shut it again. He hesitated for a few more seconds while Marinette’s curiosity grew.

“What? Spit it out.”

“Well… uhhh…” The tips of his ears seemed red. “The reason I actually told you all that is because there’s a dinner tonight that my father is hosting,” he explained. “And everyone on that list will be there, so I’m actually thinking of going for once.”

Marinette gaped. “Seriously? That’s a huge opportunity!”

Adrien nodded quickly. “Yes, exactly. And it’d make sense for you to come, since you’re helping me catch the stalker, right?”

“Right,” Marinette agreed. Then, “Wait…”

“Except you would have to…” Adrien winced. “Pretend you’re my girlfriend.” _Please don’t think of this the wrong way, please don’t think of this the wrong way, please don’t…_

“Oh,” Marinette whispered. “I guess your dad doesn’t know then?”

Adrien paused in his internal mantra-chanting. That hadn’t been what he was expecting. “Doesn’t know what?”

“You know,” Marinette said meaningfully. He stared blankly; Marinette looked around before leaning in and whispering, “You being gay.”

Everything inside of Adrien stilled once the words passed her lips. Stunned, he gawked at Marinette, letting his jaw drop open. “ _What?”_  His brain was having trouble processing what she’d said. Did he hear her right? Was Marinette _pranking_ him?

“Plagg told me,” Marinette murmured. She mistook Adrien’s expression for fear and quickly waved her hands in front of her face. “No, no! I don’t think any less of you, believe me. It’s totally fine and you’re valid.” She laid a hand on Adrien’s arm reassuringly. He numbly followed the movement with his eyes in a state of near-shock. “It actually makes sense that your dad doesn’t know. You _did_ mention how he’s strict and all.” Marinette nodded in finality. “Alright, I’ll go with you then. When is it?”

Somehow, Adrien’s lips managed to form the words, “Tonight at seven.” _She thinks I’m gay. She thinks I’m_ gay.

Marinette checked her watch. “Geez, it’s already three. Is this a super formal event? What’s the dress code like?” Marinette suddenly paled. “Oh no, do I have to bring a gift of some sort? I don’t know if I can afford anything expensive enough for the tastes of people like Gabriel Agreste or Audrey Bourgeois—“

“Don’t worry about it,” Adrien faintly replied. “I got it.”

“Oh. Okay.” Marinette blinked up at him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah…” Adrien began walking out of the hospital mechanically, with stiff steps. “Let’s… let’s go back.”

**...**

“Whatever you do, don’t sip your soup loudly. Father hates that a lot and will passive-aggressively offer you another meal to hint that you don’t know how to properly eat soup.” Marinette listened raptly and tucked the information away in her mind.

They had gone back to the office only for two hours before each went their separate ways to get ready for the dinner.  Marinette had cleaned herself up only a little bit since Adrien had stressed how the theme was business casual (and how his father abhorred those who wouldn’t follow dress codes). She’d changed into a fitted pastel pink blouse with a large gray coat on top, a knee-length pencil skirt, and pumps. After much deliberation she’d pinned her hair back too.

In all honesty, she was a little nervous going into the dinner. She was going to try and run her mouth as little as possible. From what little exposure she’d had to the fashion world, she knew that those experienced were like hawks ready to tear you apart. And she’d be sitting at a table with two fashion _icons._ Rambling was totally out of the question.

But aside from all the social-pressure nonsense, she also had a mission. She was going to try and find Adrien’s stalker once and for all. Adrien was sure it was one of the six people—and it was her job to narrow it down to one.

At 6:30, they’d reconvened. Adrien picked her up from the bakery, where Marinette’s mother made sure to embarrass her and her father made sure to remind her to use her strength if needed while Adrien was inside. _Urk._ As they drove to Adrien’s old house, he listed off a bunch of things that she should and shouldn’t do.

So far there’d been: No elbows on the table. Don’t stare at one thing for too long. Don’t fill your plate or bowl up till it’s full, rather, only until its ¾ of the way full. Don’t smile too much, but don’t be flat-faced either. Keep your back straight in your chair and try not to look timid.

To be honest, Marinette’s mind was spinning trying to just keep track of it all. She lumped it all up into _be confident, but not arrogant_ and hoped that it would last her the night.

“And lastly,” Adrien said, taking a turn in the road. The homes were progressively getting bigger and fancier as they drove along. “All the things I just told you? Only do them if you’re wanting to please them.” Marinette looked up, surprised. Adrien was shaking his head in exasperation. “I have a feeling I might explode today. If that happens, then feel free to slurp your soup as loudly as you want.” Marinette smiled a little. His last tip had cleared a bit of her nerves.

“Got it.”

He took one more turn and pulled up to a huge manor. Marinette unabashedly let her jaw drop as she took the whole thing in. The mansion was undoubtedly a far step above the surrounding ones, with high marble columns and a sprawling front lawn. A huge, ornate front gate shut it off from the rest of the world, but anyone could see the number-digits plain as day. _So, so many zeroes._

“Wow,” she croaked. “I…somehow forgot that your dad was really rich.”

Adrien smiled, though it was tight and devoid of any warmth. “Home sweet home.”

After Adrien rang the doorbell and had his face identified by a robot camera (something that still had Marinette’s insides squirming), the gate swung open and they walked through the stone path set in the front lawn. At the foot of the stairs leading up to two huge entry doors, a tall and poised woman was waiting. She was dressed crisply in a black suit with a red turtleneck underneath the blazer, and her hair was pulled back into a neat bun. Frameless glasses adorned her face as she gazed at them down the length of her nose. She nodded to Adrien first. “It’s good to see you again, Adrien. I’m glad you came today.”

“Likewise, Nathalie.” Marinette gave a start. _This_ was Nathalie? Adrien spoke about her with more affection than any of the others, so she’d assumed that the woman would be less… cold. Marinette could almost feel waves of cold air emanating from the woman’s very person. And when her eyes shifted over, Marinette felt like her body had been frosted over.

“Who is this?”

Adrien cleared his throat. “Marinette. She's my plus one for the evening.”

Nathalie raised an eyebrow. The simple action had Marinette wanting to fidget, but she forced herself to ground her feet and meet her eyes evenly. There was no room to be nervous tonight. “Well, I’m afraid she won’t be able to come inside—“

“I told her all about how messed up Father is,” Adrien interrupted. Marinette flinched at how cold and flat Adrien’s voice turned at the mention of his father. He was like a whole other person. Even though he was dressed more casually than she was, in a white turtleneck and dark wash jeans, he was somehow matching up to Nathalie’s stiffness in her suit. _What is this?_ “So she already knows everything. Come on.” He took Marinette’s hand and began leading her inside. Marinette tried hard not to meet Nathalie’s searing gaze while she walked inside with him.

The foyer was humongous. The ceiling seemed to arch in on itself from where a huge, glittering chandelier hung. There was even a balcony lining along all the walls. On the immaculate white marble floor, there was an intricate black design right in the center, underneath the chandelier. But what caught Marinette’s attention was right at the front of the room: where two sets of stairs converged hung a large portrait on the wall. It had a heavy gold frame and was clearly meant to be the focus of the room, as one could see it directly as they stepped inside. The picture was Gabriel Agreste standing with Adrien, back when he was a teenager. About fourteen years old.

They both looked somehow melancholy. Marinette wasn’t sure how Gabriel had changed, but Adrien was so different ten years ago. He was skinnier, but his cheeks were fuller at the same time—like how most teenage boys looked. His hair was neatly gelled and parted instead of falling across his forehead. Most of all, though, fourteen year old Adrien looked empty. The eyes that Marinette was so used to seeing glimmering with mischief seemed lifeless, and not only because they were painted on canvas. Both father and son wore stern expressions as they stared into the camera, wearing fully black suits. _It looks like a picture from a funeral._

“This way.” Marinette jumped. Nathalie had come back inside and was escorting them to the dining hall. Adrien let go of Marinette’s hand as they walked. She had a second to miss the one spot of warmth in the frosty manor before they were stepping into a checkerboard-tile room. A long table ran down the length of the room, much too large for twenty people to sit at, let alone six. The large windows along the walls had been partly covered with red curtains so that a warm glow was cast upon the room. Somehow, it did little to get rid of the chill that had settled inside.

Four people sat at the table. At the head, a tall, stern looking man with a permanent frown on his face: Gabriel Agreste. To his right, an equally tall, but definitely not as stern-looking man with an uncountable number of chins: Mayor Bourgeois. Next to the mayor was a girl checking her makeup in a hand-mirror and wrinkling her nose at the food on the table: Chloe Bourgeois. And across from Chloe sat a woman dressed in a silk dress with sweeping sleeves and a fur vest, pieces that could probably pay off a house: Audrey Bourgeois. Other than those four, an expressionless, burly man stood behind Gabriel, who Marinette assumed was Gorilla.

With the Mayor fussing over Chloe, her angrily yelling at him, and Audrey busily chatting on her phone, there was plenty noise at the table. But Gabriel stayed silent. He looked up as the three of them stepped in and stood up, instantly commandeering silence without a word. The four elites stared at Adrien and Marinette as if they were aliens. Well… Marinette reckoned that she was the only alien there.

“Adrien,” Gabriel said coolly as greeting. “It’s so nice to finally see you here.” From his tone he sounded annoyed that Adrien took so long to show up to a dinner instead of glad that he arrived at all. Marinette didn’t think gladness was even possible on Gabriel’s face.

“It’s so nice of you to finally see me.” Marinette’s mouth almost dropped open at Adrien’s snappish response.

He had a _feeling_ he might explode today? They’d literally exchanged greetings and Marinette could practically hear a bomb ticking.

Gabriel’s eyes flitted to Marinette. If she’d thought that Nathalie could freeze her over, then Gabriel was a whole blizzard. His eyes narrowed. “Who is this?” Same question as Nathalie, one hundred percent more intimidating. Marinette tried not to let her unease show on her face.

Adrien paused for a beat before evenly replying. “My girlfriend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, no. Adrien, dear old dad won't be too happy about this...   
> And, well, now we know what Plagg told Marinette... so...


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the awaited dinner arrives! Get ready for another healthy dosage of Gabriel being a dick amongst other things, but a lot of it is him being a dick.  
> Enjoy! :)

Those simple two words garnered an instant reaction, most notably from Chloe, who unabashedly shrieked in outrage. Mayor Bourgeois frantically tried to calm his daughter while casting looks at Gabriel. Audrey Bourgeois covered her mouth with a dainty hand and looked Marinette up and down, blatantly judging Marinette’s outfit, while the burly bodyguard, who’d been looking down until then, stole a glance at Marinette. She could hear Nathalie sigh ever so quietly behind them.

Gabriel was silent yet again, except he was grinding his jaw. _Yikes._ Okay, Marinette was actually a little bit scared now. She had to remind herself that she had the ability pulverize the mansion to stop herself from jittering.

“Is this another one of your impudent acts of rebellion?” Gabriel bit out, his voice carrying harshly across the room. Marinette saw Adrien glowering out of the corner of her eye.

“ _Marinette_ is a person, not a thing that I’m using to prove a point to you.”

“We were already having arrangements with Mme. Bourgeois.”

“Not _we,_ ” Adrien spat. “Don’t say we. It was all you. And, sorry Chloe, but I wouldn’t ever agree to that in a thousand years.”

Chloe sniffed. “Me either, but—is that seriously who you turned _me_ away for?” She peered at Marinette and then wrinkled her nose. Something about the girl’s disposition made Marinette’s hackles rise. “That’s utterly ridiculous! Just look at her.”

_The only ridiculous thing here is your lip color!_ Marinette wanted to snarl. She’d guessed going into this that it would probably be a headache, since she knew that rich people were snobs (or at least most of them, if Adrien was any exception). But she’d still been unprepared for the migraine that was beginning to form. The night had only just begun and tensions were thick enough to be cut with a knife. It seemed like everyone was engaged in some kind of standoff with another person in the room.

They were interrupted by a chef parading into the room with three maids at his heels, all holding dishes. As if he couldn’t see how strained the atmosphere was, he announced, “Dinner is served.” The maids laid dishes out in front of every seat while the portly chef listed off the names of the lavish courses. Marinette figured that her dinner alone could be worth a month of pay from one of her old part time jobs. For the first time, everyone settled down quietly and began eating—not that it was any better from when they were all yelling at each other. It was so awkward and rigid that Marinette was half-hoping for Chloe to say something stupid to dispel the mood.

Finally Gabriel set down his fork. “Let’s put our…rough meeting behind us, Adrien.” A snort indicated that his son didn’t fully agree, but Gabriel continued on. “I’m sure you know why I called you all here today. It was _going_ to be a discussion about Adrien taking over the company before a union with the Bourgeois family, but…” Gabriel cleared his throat. “My apologies, Andres. Audrey. It seems like the plan has changed.”

Audrey narrowed her eyes. She’d finally put her phone down. “What? So you’re saying that Chloe _won’t_ be marrying your son?”

Gabriel was unaffected. “I’m afraid not. I wasn’t anticipating Adrien to be so disagreeable.” A loud clang of a fork being set on plate: Adrien angrily sending out the message, _Really? Did you really not anticipate this?_ Marinette also found it kind of hard to believe. Adrien had run away from home four whole years ago. In fact, she could almost think that Gabriel invited the Bourgeois family and Adrien at the same time for that very reason—to get rid of the thorn that was Audrey in his side for good.

He watched impassively as Audrey fumed. Gabriel, Marinette decided, was a smart man.

Audrey stood up. “This is utterly ridiculous. Did you call me here just to make a fool of me?” She slid her shades down over her eyes. “Did you forget who raised you up in the industry? Utterly incredible!” With a smooth pivot Audrey was clacking out of the hall. Her husband and daughter were quick to follow, the latter shooting a disgusted look at Marinette as if to say _your fault_.

Marinette wordlessly crossed all three Bourgeois members off of the list. They didn’t even make an effort for Adrien to agree to dispel Chat Noir Games. Audrey did show displeasure, but that was it. If one of them had been threatening Adrien, then they wouldn’t let this chance to confront him face-to-face go to waste, would they?

That left Gorilla, Nathalie and Gabriel. Out of the three, Marinette had an inkling as to who it was.

“So, mademoiselle. Your name is Marinette?” She gave a start. Oh, no. Was Gabriel talking to her? Why was he talking to her?! After the debacle she just witnessed with Audrey, she was even less willing to talk to him than before. It was clear he could twist the reaction that he wanted out of people for a desired outcome.

“Um, yes—Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. “That name sounds familiar. Dupain-Cheng is the name of a popular bakery, is it not?”

“Yes. My parents own it.”

“Ah.” Gabriel nodded, but it seemed reprimanding. “You’re a baker’s daughter.” Marinette bristled. _What’s that supposed to mean?_

“Yes, she is,” Adrien interjected, surprising Marinette. She’d almost forgotten he was there. “What about it?”

“How did you meet Adrien?” Gabriel asked Marinette, acting as if Adrien hadn’t spoken. Marinette shifted uncomfortably.

“I work for him.”

“An employee?” Gabriel raised his eyebrow. “What department?”

She blanched. _Think fast!_ “I’m his… secretary.”

“Since when?” Geez, was this an interrogation?

“Uh… a few weeks?” She thought it better to lie than say they’d met less than a week ago.

Now Gabriel turned to Adrien. “You didn’t have a secretary until now?”  Apparently her lie wasn’t enough. _Maybe I should have said a few months._ “Rookie mistake.”

Adrien’s fist tightened. “Does it matter? My company is doing fine. Great, actually. I don’t even need to take over _yours._ ” At those words, father and son stared each other down. There were almost lightning sparks in the air between them.

“Don’t be childish,” Gabriel said quietly, almost a hiss. “This company isn’t solely mine. It was yours ever since you were born.”

“That was before I made my own.”

“Precisely why you need to get rid of it. A silly video gaming company? It’s tarnish to the Agreste name.”

“Actually,” Adrien said with a sickly sweet smile, “Tech is on the rise, while people are beginning to realize what a scam the fashion industry is. Maybe the tables will turn in the future.”

“That’s enough!” Gabriel shouted, raising his voice for the first time. Adrien didn’t so much as bat an eye. “You have to come back to the family company. It’s what your mother would have wanted you to do.”

_That_ pulled a reaction out of Adrien—albeit not a good one. His eyes widened in surprise for a split second before narrowing dangerously. He stood up so fast that his chair screeched out behind him and nearly tipped over. He was trembling.

“Don’t talk about her,” he said quietly, voice trembling a lot like he was. “You don’t have the right.” With that, he spun around and marched out of the room. Marinette wasted no time in dismissing herself to go after him. She had no business sitting at a table with a fuming mogul and his two closest employees.

Marinette slipped through the mansion. “How did he vanish so fast?” she whispered to herself as she tried navigating the halls. He hadn’t gone towards the front door, so that meant he was somewhere inside. She faintly wondered why he would go deeper inside the house instead of leaving, especially after the disaster that just took place. Her musings vanished, though, when she caught sight of his white sweater around a corner.

“Adrien?” She turned the corner and paused. He was standing in front of a huge mosaic-style painting that stretched almost to the roof. Its width must have been as long as Marinette was tall, at the very least. Shades of gold and russet and mustard-browns swirled together, two eerily recognizable shamrock-colored eyes standing out amidst it all. After a second of sorting the painting out in her head, Marinette realized it was a serene-looking, golden haired woman smiling. It didn’t take much for Marinette to piece two and two together.

Adrien quickly wiped a knuckle across his face before turning around. _Was he crying?_ The action was so fast that she couldn’t be sure. His eyes weren’t red when he faced her, so she chalked it up to her imagination.

“Sorry,” she said softly. “Did I interrupt?”

“No,” Adrien replied. His voice sounded strained. He looked back at the magnificent portrait and chuckled humorlessly. “It’s just a painting, after all.”

Marinette tentatively stepped forward until she was standing next to him. She looked up at the portrait in closer detail. It looked even more wondrous up close. “Your mother?”

“Yeah.” His eyes traced over his mother’s face. “My mom.”

Now she knew. From Gabriel’s comment before, and Adrien’s reaction, his mom was dead. And Adrien must have loved her a lot, seeing as he was here, staring up at her one last time before going home. _What a dirty trick to mention her like that._

“She was really beautiful,” Marinette commented. “You have her eyes.”

Adrien looked down at Marinette at that. “You think so?”

“Of course.” Marinette gave a definite nod. “Her genes were really strong.”

Adrien chuckled again, this time sounding less strained. “Sorry that you had to see all that, by the way. My father just…” He gave a frustrated sigh and ran a hand though his hair. “Everything he says makes me angry.”

“I can see that,” Marinette said quietly. “Actually… I think he might be…” How did she say it? How did she tell Adrien that she thought his own father was the one who had been threatening him, getting people to stalk him, even hired someone to stab Ivan? The words wouldn’t move past her tongue. Adrien just looked at her, a resigned, weary sort of expression set in his face.

“You also think it’s him, don’t you?”

 Marinette turned to face him, cautious. “Well, it’s just that the Bourgeois family left without even trying, so it wouldn’t make sense for them to try so hard behind the scenes. Your dad was the angriest about you not taking over Gabriel, and he even mentioned how silly Chat Noir Games is. Nathalie and Gorilla didn’t even say anything the whole time so…” She stopped rambling, a little out of breath. “That’s why I think it’s him.”

Adrien pursed his lips, looking back to the painting. “If I’m being honest, I had a feeling all along. He always called me to dinners like this one to talk about me taking over his company. After I ran away, he tried for a little while and then gave up. I stopped going to the dinners and he didn’t even care. I just don’t get why he’s suddenly trying so hard again.” Marinette frowned. When he put it like that… it really was mysterious.

Adrien shook his head. “I’ll never understand him. Let’s go now.” Marinette nodded. Adrien turned to leave and Marinette began to follow dazedly, still thinking about what he’d said.

What happened in the next few moments was entirely a product of Marinette’s unfortunate clumsiness. Since she’d worn pumps to the dinner, something that she wasn’t used to wearing, she had to focus while walking to make sure that she didn’t trip. Focus that she _wasn’t_ making an effort for while her mind was spinning with the mystery about Gabriel Agreste that Adrien had planted in her head. Her ankle folded in on itself as Marinette turned and she began to tip over. In a moment of dread, Marinette realized that she was falling towards the painting. If she landed on that painting, the whole _wall_ could cave in, much less the beloved painting of Adrien’s mom.

_Shit!_ She twisted in a frenzied attempt at grace and tried to balance herself as gently as possible. Her hands ended up splayed out across the painting, pads of her fingers being the only things touching thanks to her extreme, last-second caution. To her horror, though, she felt her fingers push in to the painting. She leapt away from the painting once she was balanced with a squawk, hands slapping over her mouth in shame of what she’d done.

Adrien turned around and saw her still standing inside. “Marinette? Aren’t you coming—“ Just at that moment, the painting popped forward, like a door that had opened.

Marinette stared in utter disbelief. She thought that she’d ruined the painting, but _this_ was… it was…

“Unbelievable,” Adrien breathed, rushing back to the painting. “Is this a secret door?”

Marinette turned to Adrien, her hands slowly removing themselves from her face. She gaped at him. “You didn’t know about this?”

“No,” he whispered, wide-eyed. “I always used to look at this painting, but this…” He reached forward and cautiously grasped the door, as if testing out the feel of it. He slowly began to open it. It swung noiselessly as if it had greased hinges.

He opened the door halfway with a little bit of a struggle thanks to its humongous size. Inside was a large, box-shaped space with a few shelves. All the top shelves were empty yet spotless as if they’d been wiped clean. When Adrien crouched down, though, he slid a big, dark brown box forward from the bottom shelf. Marinette soon realized that it wasn’t a box, but a thick tome. The book looked antique and ready to crumble at the slightest touch in opposition to the spick-and-span, white metal interior of the safe.

On the plain cover, scrawling black letters wrote _Book of Curses._ Adrien stared at the volume in his lap, not daring to flip the cover open. “What _is_ this?”

“Adrien?” The distant clacking of Nathalie’s heels, and her voice calling his name, alerted both of them with a jerk of panic to accompany. Adrien shot up and hurriedly swung the door, but it jammed against the wall with a sickeningly loud noise of metal on metal instead of closing. Both of them cringed at the loud sound as Adrien tried shoving the door back into place with his shoulder to no avail. “It’s stuck!”

Marinette placed one hand on the painting and pushed. It slid back into place with a jolt. Adrien had little time to be amazed, though, because Nathalie’s voice was suddenly around the corner. “Are you here?”

They both sagged in relief. They’d successfully managed to shut the door.

Their relief was short-winded, though, when Adrien’s shoe nudged against the book he’d left on the ground. His eyes bugged. _Shit! I forgot about the book!_

Just then, Nathalie entered the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :O?


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Back with a new chapter!  
> Last chapter was when things REALLY deviated from the drama's course. Those of you who have seen it before probably noticed minor changes throughout, but this is where I add in my own twist (one of them, anyways). Hope you like it >:)
> 
> ALSO i had to do some minor research for this chapter... but if i messed anything up IM SORRY I just read some articles and looked at timelines so it MAAYYY not be perfect Q__Q

“Ugghhh!” Marinette groaned loudly, hunched over on the floor. Her arms tightly wound around herself as she keeled. “My stomach…”

“What happened?” Nathalie asked, rushing forward.

“I think she’s allergic to something that was in dinner,” Adrien said worriedly. He was patting Marinette’s back. “Can you stand, Marinette?”

“I—urk…” Her cheeks puffed. She tightened her arms further. “I’ll need some help.”

“I’ll call a car,” Nathalie said, briskly slipping her phone out.

“NO!” Adrien shouted. Nathalie gave a start at his sudden outburst. Adrien coughed and repeated, “Uh, no. I was going to take her home anyways. It’s fine.” He quickly put an arm around Marinette and helped her up. She stood, still curled over her stomach.

“Then let me escort you out,” Nathalie offered.

“That’s fine!” Marinette squeaked. “I don’t want to inconvenience you. Really,” she plodded on when she saw Nathalie open her mouth to argue. “I’ll be fine. I just need to get home as soon as possible.”

“…alright,” Nathalie finally conceded, eyeing Marinette. “Take some medicine. I deeply apologize for not informing you of the ingredients earlier.”

“S’alright,” Marinette mumbled.

“And I wanted to apologize for tonight,” Nathalie said to Adrien. “On behalf of Gabriel as well. He’s simply… getting older, and wants to have a lesser load from the company. Even he has his limits. I’ve offered numerous times to take over, but he insists you’re the only one apt for the role.”

Adrien was silent as he processed her words. Instead of replying, he simply nodded to Nathalie one last time before assisting Marinette out of the manor.

They kept it up until they were in his car, and even then, Marinette only unfurled from her position when he’d started the car and pulled away from the manor. When the mansion was little more than a speck in the side mirror, she stretched out with a relieved sigh and slipped the thick book out from under the large gray overcoat she was wearing.

“That was great,” Adrien praised. “Quick thinking. I didn’t know you were such a good actress.”

“I’m better at artsy stuff than math and sciences. And you weren’t so bad yourself,” Marinette responded as she stared down at the book. She’d thought before that it could crumble from a touch, but the pages, cover, spine—everything was completely fine even after being shoved under her clothes. “Do you know what this is?”

Adrien chanced a look at it for one second while driving. “No. I’ve never seen it before.” His hands tightened around the wheel. “Apparently Father keeps things hidden around the house.” Marinette glanced at Adrien, but his sights were trained solely on the road.

She was itching to crack the cover open, but something felt missing. When she realized what it was, she turned the book around, hoping to find it, but had no such luck. “There’s no author.”

They passed through various streets in Marinette’s neighborhood as Adrien navigated the car towards the bakery. Finally, they stopped at a red light and Adrien got a good look at the book. “Really? That’s weird.”

“Mhm.” Marinette finally opened the cover and flicked past a few blank pages. On the pages after, writing was crammed in, filling the pages up with countless words. Marinette looked closer and her suspicions were confirmed when she ran a finger over the page and felt indents from the letters. It was all handwritten. Was this a journal of sorts? But the title, _Book of Curses,_ made it seem otherwise.

She started reading. _This book is a cumulative collection of all instances the first curses currently known came to be. The “curses”, which are actually rather miraculous in nature, are unexplained, nearly supernatural phenomena. They are also only passed down in women, though the reason is unknown; it is most likely attributed to genes that females alone possess. These different types of curses have shown all around the world from centuries ago and have only stopped in a bloodline when only sons were born._

The rest of the page went further in depth over the curses, but Marinette had stopped reading. Instead she gawked at the book, eyes wide as saucers. _Passed down only in women? Unexplained phenomena?_ It was a book about _her._ Her super strength. Marinette had somehow accidentally stumbled upon a book that probably her mom, her grandma, and all the women before didn’t ever get to see. Would she be able to find a page about her super strength? Find out how and when it originated?

When she turned the page, though, she was met with disappointment. It was written in swooping and curving letters belonging not to French—it looked like Arabic. She flipped further and found pages in Hindi, Hebrew, German, Japanese, English—either it was olden English or she’d gotten even worse at the language over the years. She could barely understand it. In a moment of clarity, she realized that information about her specific curse (if it even was one) would probably be written in Chinese, since it ran along her mom’s side of the family. But Marinette didn’t know how to read Chinese.

The car stopped. Marinette looked up and saw that they’d already arrived at the bakery. Naturally, the book would be staying with Adrien because it came from the secret safe in his dad’s house, but… she really wanted to make sense of the book. There had to be a French section at least, right?

She checked her phone. It was only eight o’clock. She could still be out for another two hours before wanting to go home.

“Um…” She cleared her throat. “Can I come over to your house for a bit?”

Adrien suddenly choked on his spit. He bent over in a coughing fit and Marinette almost thwacked his back before remembering she could break his spine. She settled for gently patting his back instead, but that only seemed to make it worse, so she quickly retracted her hand. His face was red as he sucked in ragged breaths, finally finished with his fit a few long moments later.

His voice was hoarse from coughing. “Wh…why?”

“This book,” Marinette said. She looked down at the cover. “It’s about my powers.”

Adrien’s eyes widened, cough forgotten. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. I mean—just read the intro. I haven’t found any pages other than that that I can read yet, but I’m sure it has information about my super strength. There’s got to be a French section.” Marinette watched Adrien as his eyes flitted over the introductory passage. He, too, ran a finger over the words, and flipped past the first few pages to see the indecipherable Arabic writing.

“Alright.” He handed the book back to her and started the car up. “Let’s go.”

Marinette blinked. She’d been expecting to do a little more persuasion. “Really?”

“Yep.” He smirked at her. “Try not to be too impressed with my house, though.” Marinette rolled her eyes as they drove off again. She had a feeling that after seeing Gabriel’s mausoleum, she wouldn’t be prone to dropping her jaw in awe again any time soon.

They drove along for a while as Marinette thumbed through the book. Infuriatingly, there was no table of contents or index for such a thick book. She couldn’t just flick all the pages past to check for French letters either, since French shared alphabets with several other languages. So she had to flip through every clump of pages, and judging by the thickness of the book, it would take a while. She was so focused that she didn’t even notice that their destination had arrived and Adrien had stopped the car. She jumped to a start when Adrien poked her cheek.

“We’re here,” he told her. Marinette looked up and couldn’t help but raise her eyebrows.

Okay, so his house was impressive, too. It was different from the Agreste Manor’s cool marble columns and vast enormity with chandeliers and velvet curtains. His was a contemporary home, with flat slopes and windows that took up entire walls. Through one of those windows she could see trendy furniture and bookshelves that must have been at least eight feet high, high ceilings with balconies and skylights, abstract art hung up in places. It reminded Marinette of Adrien’s office and the general atmosphere of Chat Noir Games. To be honest, she liked it a lot more than the Agreste Manor and its old-fashioned, cold style.

“I warned you.” Adrien sounded smug. Before Marinette could retort, he got out of the car. She grudgingly followed. He led them inside (clapping twice to activate all the lights, which freaked Marinette out for a hot second) to the kitchen, where there was a peninsula with barstools. That was where they seated themselves. Marinette pushed the dense tome onto the counter.

“I wonder why your dad would have something like this,” Marinette mused. Adrien paused in the action of opening the cover briefly before continuing.

“The introduction said that there were different types of curses,” Adrien mentioned, changing the topic. Marinette didn’t comment on it. “Which section do you think yours will be in?”

“One written in Chinese, I bet,” Marinette said with certainty. “My super strength comes from my mom’s side, and they’re Chinese. I can’t read Chinese, but if I showed it to my mom later, she could translate…”

“You’re in luck.” Adrien grinned. “I am, in fact, fluent in Chinese.”

Marinette stared at him disbelievingly. “You’re joking.”

“Nope!” Adrien said, grin widening. “It’s one of my many talents. _Měihǎo de yītiān, gōngpíng de nǚshì._ ” After a second, he tacked on, “ _Huòzhě wǎnshàng.”_ *

“Bragger,” Marinette huffed. A smile was growing on her face, though. Adrien could read Chinese, and that meant that she could see what her section said right away! His mishmash of abilities was really useful.

They flipped through the book and came upon the Chinese section shortly after the point that Marinette had closed the book at in the car. Adrien began reading out loud a little haltingly, most likely translating in his head as he went.

“’Year: 755. My name is Fan Xiaoling. Today I write about the strangest happening. I’ve become extremely strong over the span of a night.” Marinette sucked in a breath. Her guess had been right. “I do not know how, or if this is a punishment or reward from the gods. But I am stronger than the biggest man in the village. I can lift an ox with one hand. I can knock over a wooden fence with one finger. For now, I will not use my power. In truth, it is a little scary. I want to see if it goes away first.’” He stopped reading.

“That’s it?” Marinette frowned. Adrien was squinting at the page.

“Well, the characters are smudged. Hold on.” He turned the book a little and let out a little ‘aha’ when he finally got it. “’Year: 756. Nowadays it is dangerous. A new rebellion has arisen. They call it the An Shi rebellion, and it is being led against the Tang Dynasty. There is always chaos in the streets, but because of my strength, I have been able to protect those dear to me. I throw boulders at those coming to attack and it works better than any sword or spear.’”

Marinette considered the information. “It’s not anything I didn’t already know, but it’s still interesting to read.”

“She got her powers right before the An Shi rebellion began,” Adrien pointed out. “As if she was meant to fight in it.”

“Huh, I didn’t consider that.” Marinette turned the words over in her mind again. As if she was meant to fight in it, or… “So she could protect her dear ones. That’s what it says, right?”

“Right,” Adrien nodded.

It made sense. If the universe, or whatever it was that gave all the women in history their powers, decided that misusing them could result in rescinding the powers, physical afflictions, or worse, then it could certainly decide that using your power to protect those you love was the most important thing of all.

Fan Xiaoling got her powers because she would need them to protect the ones she loved.

“I’m more surprised at the fact that there are other powers like yours,” Adrien commented as he flipped through the book. “Aren’t you? I thought you were the only one with this kind of super ability.”

“To be honest, me too, but…” Marinette shrugged. “After living your whole life being able to lift cars, things about superpowers are less surprising than you’d think.” But who was she kidding? She’d been so focused on her own ancestry that she hadn’t paused to think about it. Were there really other people like her, sprinkled somewhere in the world? Or had their lineages been cut off from only sons being born?

“Aha. Here it is.” Adrien flipped to the portion written in French. He’d found it alarmingly fast. “It’s olden, but still understandable.” Marinette leaned in to read.

_Year: 1794. My name is Marion Villeneuve. Recently terrible things have been happening in France. At first, my family and I were happy that the monarchy was overthrown. However, the revolution turned into bloodshed quickly, especially now that all of our neighbors are being accused, then thrown into prison, then being sent to have their heads chopped off. The Jacobins are crazy. In truth, I should not be writing this lest they find it and called me a counterrevolutionary and send me off to my own death. However, I have a power that has been bestowed upon me by God. I found that I am able to conjure men’s nightmare into reality. A few days ago two Jacobins came to our cottage and said that my father was a counterrevolutionary and he needed to be put on trial. Of course it was ludicrous, but those men would hardly listen. All a sudden they were pushing me and my mother down. I do not know what happened, but one moment I was seething with rage, wishing to rid of them myself, and the next moment a huge demon appeared from blue smoke and scared the two men away. At first I thought it was a devil, but later I found out it was me. It may be unseemly, but as long as nobody sees me when I use it, I can protect my family from these radical Jacobins._

“Wow,” Adrien breathed once he’d read. It was customary for French students to learn about the French Revolution, obviously, but it was different reading a first person account. This was definitely something that they would never find in school textbooks. “That’s amazing.”

“Her superpower was to make nightmares reality?” Marinette’s mind was spinning with the information. It was so vastly different from her own power, it felt like it didn’t even exist. “That’s… scary.”

“Her name sounds kind of familiar,” Adrien murmured. “Marion Villeneuve. Have you heard that anywhere before?”

“No.” Marinette shook her head. “Do you think you could have read about her somewhere?”

“No, it feels like something else…” Adrien raked his hand through his hair for a few moments before giving up. “I can’t remember though.”

Marinette flipped back to the introduction. She’d only skimmed over the first paragraph before, and she wanted to do an in-depth reading now that the more important things were out of the way. Before she could do that, though, she abruptly realized something.

“Why is the whole introduction in French?”

“Hm?” Adrien looked up. The realization dawned on his face, confusion following soon after. “You’re right… that’s weird.” He bent his head towards the book and his eyes suddenly widened. “Hold on, there’s a little signature down here, I think!”

Marinette leaned in eagerly. “Really? Where?”

He pointed. “It’s tiny. I think it says… Fu?”

***translation: Good day, fair lady… or night.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EEEEEEE THANK YOUUUU to the readers that leave reviews. Special thanks to Kiki, who went through and left a bunch of comments for me to smile over at once. I love regular commenters to pieces, but there's just something about knowing that someone read through my story and commented on each chapter in one sitting.
> 
> Enjoy!

**_during Adrien and Marinette’s dinner at Gabriel’s_ **

Luka peered up at the electrician and yelled, “Will they be alright?”

The man, perched high up on a ladder, gave a thumbs-up and shouted down, “Yep! As long as they avoid most of the wiring, it should be fine.”

Luka sighed in relief. After the kidnapping from the hospital that had happened the day before yesterday, he’d come to a conclusion: The culprit must know the neighborhood really well. It was the only way she could navigate the streets _and_ end up at the nearby hospital that Danielle was staying in. So he’d proposed to his team that they install security cameras in the neighborhood, especially in the back streets where it was darker at night. However, there were only so many, and they couldn’t go putting them everywhere. The cameras had to be strategically placed.

“I think we should put three more back here,” Jalil said as he walked up to Luka with a map. He pointed to where he was talking about. “It’s close by to where the other crimes happened and it’s in the back alleys.”

Luka nodded. Jalil and Theo had come with him to check up on things and sort it out. “That’s a good idea. After that and a few more here”—he circled parts of the map with a finger—“we should be good.”

As Jalil left to tell the men installing the cameras, Luka took a look around. Two trucks for the electricians were situated along the road along with their police car. They’d ended up having to block off a bit of the road so that the cameras could get installed, but luckily it wasn’t a busy main street so there wasn’t much traffic.

Other than foot traffic coming from curious residents, of course. A few old ladies and children had already walked by and had stared at what was going on. The former, Luka could hear, talked about how it was a good thing and that more security was needed nowadays.

Speaking of foot traffic—a voice called out, “Wow! Are these security cameras?”

Luka and Theo turned to see a young woman examining the site. She had golden brown skin, long brown hair and olive green eyes that seemed to glimmer. She turned and smiled at them. Luka could hear Theo breathe out in awe and had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. _Oh, Theo. You poor man._

“I think it’s a really great thing that you’re putting these up,” she told them, voice sweet. “The neighborhood is really dangerous nowadays, especially with that criminal running around.”

“Y-yeah. You should be careful going home,” Theo blurted. “It’s dangerous. I mean. You just said that but…”

Her laugh sounded like tinkling bells. “You officers are great. Say, where else are you planning to put them up?” She brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. “I live in a different area of the neighborhood, so I want to see if cameras will be put up there too.”

“Oh, of course!” Theo hurried over to her side and showed her the map. He pointed to all the areas that they were planning to put cameras in. “Here, here and here. Oh, and we’ll be hiding some in the foliage too. It’ll catch the culprit by surprise.”

“Really?” She sounded interested. “Where?” As Theo gave the woman all the specifics, Luka couldn’t help but feel a prodding at his chest. _The culprit is a woman. She knows the neighborhood well to avoid all security cameras._ He looked at the virtuous golden girl smiling at Theo and mentally slapped himself for even thinking that it could be her. _Come on. Are you going to suspect every female in the neighborhood then?_

“Can I take a picture?” She asked, holding up her phone. “I want to remember all these places. I have to care for my grandmother and often end up going to the pharmacy late at night to buy her medicine, so I think it’d be better to stick to guarded areas…”

“That’s so kind of you to care for your grandma like that.” Theo grinned dopily. “Of course. Take as many pictures as you need.” She snapped a few on her phone and then slipped it back in her purse. With one final wave, she bid the two men goodbye and winked at Theo.

“Did you see that?” Theo asked excitedly once she’d left. He shook Luka’s arm. “She winked at me!”

“Uh, yeah,” Luka said, wiggling out of Theo’s grasp and spotting Jalil. Grateful to move away from the enamored Theo, he asked, “How are the cameras, Jalil?”

“We’ll be able to put them up everywhere that we planned,” his more sensible teammate replied proudly. “No problems in wiring. Everything should go as according to plan.”

“Good,” Luka said, relieved. “The cameras should help us catch the culprit.”

_I’ll be able to protect you better, Marinette._

_…_

It was just about 9 when Adrien dropped Marinette home. They pulled up in front of the bakery and Adrien got out so he could open Marinette’s door. “I’ll try to put this through a translator,” Adrien told her as he opened her door. “Maybe we’ll be able to find more information.”

“That sounds good.” Marinette noticed how distracted Adrien sounded. Though, to be fair, he _did_ just discover that his father had a secret safe in his house with a mysterious book about something that wasn’t even important to Gabriel. Or at least, Marinette didn’t think that it was. Even she was curious: Why did Gabriel have the book? Even more than that, why was it locked up behind a safe? Where did he get the book from? And why, all of a sudden, was he trying to convince Adrien to take back the company? And who was this ‘Fu’?

Something wasn’t adding up right. There were so many questions whirling around in Marinette’s head that she couldn’t even begin trying to think about it if she tried. She shook it off and stepped out of the car.

“Thanks for dropping me home,” she said appreciatively. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“It was only fair,” Adrien replied. “You did end up having to fake an intense stomach bug for my sake. Thanks for that.” They shared a laugh over her intense acting.

Marinette smiled one last time before bidding him good night and walking to the bakery doors. When she entered, she found Alya standing at the window. Marinette jumped a little. “Oh, you surprised me.”

Alya turned to face Marinette, a sharp-eyed expression on her face. She adjusted her glasses just the way Marinette knew she did before tearing into someone in true journalist-fashion. _Oh no._

“You arrive home late, in his car.”

“What are you, my second stricter mom?” Marinette set her bag down and took a seat at one of the tables. “It was for work.”

“That seems to be your go-to excuse nowadays,” Alya snipped. “ _Work._ That’s what people say, and then they go to each other’s houses.” Marinette choked on air.

“B-but going to houses can be for business too,” she sputtered. Alya narrowed her eyes before gasping and joining Marinette at the table.

“No way. Did you go to his house?!”

“I said it’s for work!” Marinette snapped once she’d regained control of her breathing. “It’s a long story, but first we had to go to his dad’s house for a dinner and then we went—“

“Whoa, whoa, wait. His _dad’s_ house?” Alya’s face opened up in pure excitement. It seemed she’d forgotten all about Marinette going to Adrien’s house already. “For a dinner? Does that mean you saw Gabriel Agreste? People haven’t seen him in person for ages. Did you witness any family drama? Did you find out why Adrien made his own company?”

Marinette leveled Alya with a flat stare. “You can’t publish what I say, even if I tell you. You know that, right?”

Alya’s grin dissolved into a pout. “Fine. I’m still curious, though. What’s the deal?”

Marinette scratched her cheek. “Well… from what I saw, I think he ran away because his dad was really controlling. He kept trying to convince Adrien to take the company over when he didn’t want to.”

“Really?” Alya’s brows furrowed. “Isn’t it weird how he’s doing that now, though? I mean, it’s been years. It’s a little late for that.”

Marinette nodded vigorously. “That’s what we thought, too! And according to Adrien, his dad stopped caring a little while after he made Chat Noir Games. So I wonder why his dad is trying so hard again.”

“Hmm.” Alya crossed her arms. “I love a good mystery, but this is really too confusing.”

Marinette had to bite her tongue to keep from telling Alya about the safe and the book. Gabriel’s actions were already so bizarre without considering the book. Alya didn’t even know half of the mystery.

“What’s that about a mystery?” The girls turned to see Sabine descending the steps from the home on top of the bakery. Sabine usually went to bed after Tom, who had an uncanny ability to fall asleep on contact with a pillow. She was wrapped up in a night robe and held a steaming cup of tea as she stepped down and joined Marinette and Alya.

“Oh, you know,” Alya said casually, “just Adrien and his dad. I think mysteriousness runs in the family.” Alya elbowed Marinette in the ribs. “Speaking of, I have a theory.”

“What?”

“Adrien’s not gay,” Alya whispered loudly. Marinette almost choked again and stared at Alya incredulously. Right in front of her mom?! It was true—journalists had no filters over their mouths.  However, Sabine immediately leaned in, interested.

“Adrien is gay?”

“I don’t think he is,” Alya said with certainty. “I saw the way he looked at you as you came inside. He was all”—Alya morphed her face into a tender, soppy gaze—“like this.”

“Liar!” Marinette hissed. Steam must have been coming out of her ears. Much to her chagrin, though, her mom clapped elatedly.

“I didn’t even think he was gay, and I can sense these things, you know. Look at Juleka and Rose. I was right about them. When he came to pick Marinette up today, I thought he looked smitten!”

“He even opened Marinette’s car door for her just now! I saw!”

“ _Guys!_ ” Marinette snapped, burying her face in her hands. “Stop it! His secretary told me, and they’re really close. There’s no way.”

“His secretary could have lied,” Alya pointed out brazenly. “Is he the prankster type?”

Marinette opened her mouth to deny it, but faltered as she thought back to Plagg. He was _totally_ the prankster type.

Alya burst out in laughter. “Your face! I’m right, aren’t I?”

“You don’t have proof,” Marinette huffed. She stood up and snatched her bag. “I’m going upstairs now. I’m tired. _Good night.”_ She left to the sound of her mom and Alya chortling together... _ugh!_

**chapter 19**

The next day Marinette found herself loitering in front of Adrien’s office door. She was nervous, for the most stupid reason.

_‘He seemed smitten!’_

“Shut up!” Marinette snapped to no one in particular and slapped her cheeks. Why did Alya and her mom have the need to embarrass Marinette at every turn? It was like that since _lycée—_ they would both gang up on her. She couldn’t tell which one of them enjoyed the teasing more. But that was exactly what it was: teasing.

Besides, what did it matter? She liked Luka. Marinette repeated that mantra in her head to gain confidence as she opened the door. However, it turned out her worries had been for nothing. Plagg was inside with Adrien, and they seemed to be in a heated discussion.

“I’m sure that you’re the one who took it home!”

“Kid, listen,” Plagg drawled. He was dressed in a shapeless black hoodie and the lumpiest sweats Marinette had ever seen in her life. She thought it was sort of backwards how he looked better the worse everyone else in the office looked, and vice-versa. Now that everyone had relaxed thanks to UMS 3’s release, Plagg was back to looking sloppy. “This head of mine doesn’t forget a single thing. I know the files are with you.”

“Last week you couldn’t remember whether you had the camembert special or the camembert-brie combo for lunch.”

“That’s a different matter.” Plagg sounded a little irritated. “I explicitly remember giving them to you, saying, ‘Here you go, boss, just like you asked—‘”

“You’re never that respectful!”

Marinette watched on a little uncertainly as the two grown men argued like children. _Should I leave?_ She was just backing out of the door when Adrien caught sight of her. She froze.

“Oh.” He cleared his throat. “Hey, Marinette.”

“Ah, Miss Bodyguard.” Plagg nodded in her direction as a hello. “Between the two of us, who do you think would have a better memory?”

“Don’t bring her into this!”

“Why not? She knows us both, doesn’t she?”

“Uhh…” Marinette cut in. “What’s this all about?”

“There were some important files for Chat Noir Games’ main interface,” Adrien explained. “After I had Max update it, he sent me a hard copy to this office. And one of us took it home to approve,” Adrien finished, giving his secretary a stink-eye. Plagg was already doing the same. “But we can’t remember who.”

“Why don’t you just both go home and check?” Marinette asked drily.

“One of us has to stay here in case a big problem comes up.”

“Then take turns,” Marinette pointed out. When both of their faces lit up with realization Marinette shook her head. “You guys can be so childish sometimes.”

“He’s my secretary,” Adrien grumbled. “He should listen to me.” He begrudgingly made his way to the back of his office, where several hoverboards were lined up on a fancy-looking display, and plucked one off. He began walking out of the room and gestured to Marinette. “Come on.”

Marinette watched blankly as he set the board down and situated himself on it. “Where…?”

Adrien gave her a look. “My house. For the files. Remember?”

Marinette closed her eyes and took a deep breath, resisting the urge to make a face that would most likely only amuse Adrien. “On a hoverboard?”

“My house isn’t that far.” He spun around in a circle, looking to be enjoying himself. “Besides, we could benefit from a walk.” With that, he rolled out of the room, leaving Marinette a little dumbfounded. So much for walking?

_Isn’t there a park on the way to his home from here? Would a walk in the park be more intimate than a car ride?_ She caught herself and shook her head vigorously. _No! It doesn’t matter. I like Luka. Alya and Mom just messed up my thought process. Besides, Adrien IS gay_. She snuck a look at Plagg. If she asked, would he tell her the truth?

 Right at that moment, Plagg belched. Marinette wrinkled her nose and quickly exited the office to catch up with Adrien.

“Ah, there you are,” he said once she’d gotten to his side again. He smirked. “I thought I’d accidentally lost you on the way. Since you’re so tiny and all.”

Marinette gritted her teeth. “You’re really testing my patience here.”

The amused expression on his face faded. “By the way, I put a few of the sections through a translating app yesterday.”

“Oh. What did they say?”

“Well, from what I could make sense of, it was just like the sections we read,” he explained as they stepped out into daylight. The two of them started down the sidewalk; noticeably they got a few looks, probably because Adrien was rolling beside her instead of walking. A few teenage girls giggled as they walked past and Marinette realized it might not have been just because of the hoverboard.

Marinette snapped back to attention as Adrien was saying, “I noticed that there was one person from nearly every region that had gotten some sort of power, and that they usually stayed in their country while they had it.”

“Really?” Marinette cocked her head. “I suppose that makes sense. I’d be in China right now if my mom hadn’t moved here for school.”

“Well, it got me thinking…” Adrien crossed his arms, a contemplative expression on his face. “Don’t you think the descendant of Marion Villeneuve could be in France with that nightmare power?”

Marinette was silent as she turned it over in her mind. “Well, I guess. Immigration is a lot more common now, though. Maybe they moved around like I have. Also, that’s only if the bloodline didn’t get cut off by sons.”

“Maybe.” They lapsed into a comfortable silence as each mulled it over during their walk. Marinette had been right about there being a park on the way. They passed the playground filled with screaming kids and Marinette got to enjoy the sight of the lush green grass dotted with clumps of flowers in places. A gentle breeze lifted her hair from her face and she breathed in with a smile, feeling serene and rested. She felt like she could forget the kidnapper, the stalker, the book—all of it, just for one second. She looked over and saw Adrien’s face had also melted into a relaxed smile. He could be a model, she realized. _He’s really good looking._

She was examining his features (objectively, of course) when a pop sounded in the air. One heartbeat later, Adrien’s board skittered out from underneath him. He let out a shout as his long legs tangled up and he stumbled backwards. Marinette caught him with one arm before he could fall and hit the pavement.

“What’s going on?!” Adrien only had to whip his head around frantically for a few seconds before his eyes zeroed in on his cursed stalker. They were situated up in one of the trees in the park, holding a gun. Adrien’s eyes caught on to the bullet that they’d used to ruin his board and realized it was a rubber bullet.

They shot again. The two of them veered out of the way and Adrien let out a string of curses as he grabbed Marinette and ran for the nearest tree. He spun them around behind the trunk and covered Marinette’s head as rubber bullets either zoomed past them or hit the trunk.

“Crazy bastard!” Adrien snarled, looking out again. The smudge of black in the tree was gone. Where did he go?

Always being followed. Always being watched. Adrien was so sick and tired of this repeating pattern. He couldn’t even enjoy the breeze for one second anymore without being—

A searing pain lit up his right arm. A holler ripped itself out of his throat unbidden as he fell at last. His head banged against the pavement and the world started spinning. Adrien groaned as the fabric of his right sleeve got warm and sticky-feeling. His vision was straining and he could hear Marinette shouting something, but trying to concentrate just made his splitting headache worsen.

He let out a breath and rested his head back against the concrete.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad we can all agree Theo majorly screwed things up. Yeesh...  
> This chapter feels like a filler (though it's not) just cus there's less action. Hopefully fluff will make up for it :)  
> As always, comments make my day. Enjoy!

“Adrien! Adrien!” Marinette shouted frantically as she shook him. _Shit! He won’t wake up! Where did he get shot?!_ Marinette’s fingers flitted over his torso and landed on his arm. When she retracted her fingers, they were mottled with blood. She felt like she was going to be sick.

The stalker had left after shooting Adrien down, but all Marinette wanted to do now was chase them down and strangle them. How could his own dad hire someone to do this?! Adrien’s face was scrunched up in pain and Marinette quickly snapped out of it. She didn’t have time to waste. Adrien needed to go to a hospital.

“I’ll call 112,” she bumbled to Adrien’s prone form more for the sake of her own sanity than anything else. “Just hang on.” Much to her shock, though, Adrien rejuvenated with a pained groan. His eyes cracked open.

“No… hospital,” he croaked.

“Are you crazy?!”

“Rubber bullet graze,” he grunted. “Just take me home… have first aid.”

“Oh,” she breathed. Rubber bullet—thank goodness. It still wasn’t a good thing, but at least he hadn’t been shot with a real bullet. If it was just a graze she could treat it. Marinette quickly sat up and tried gathering Adrien’s long body into her arms. The only difficulty was arranging his limbs (seriously, why did they have to be so long? Why did he have to be so tall?), but once she’d gotten that over with, she lifted him up as easily as if he were a pillow. She took off in a full out sprint in the direction of his house.

“Slo-o-o-o-ow down!” Adrien cried, being jolted against Marinette’s body. “My head!”

“Skulls have survived worse,” Marinette replied as she ran, beginning to pant. “What I’m more worried about is your arm!” At that moment she jumped over a particularly large pothole, causing Adrien’s head to slam against her shoulder. He bit down on the cloth of his coat to keep from screaming.

After what felt like hours, but was actually just a few minutes, they reached the front of Adrien’s home. Adrien lifted up a hand with difficulty to unlock his house with his finger print. Once the door clicked open, Marinette shoved her way inside and dumped Adrien unceremoniously on the couch so that his injured arm didn’t face impact.

“OW!” His shout ended up muffled as he’d been thrown face-down.

“Sorry,” she panted. “First aid! Where is it?”

“You know, there’s no point in treating patients if you won’t care for them,” Adrien grumbled, pushing himself up on the couch. He caught her murderous glare and put his hands up. “Okay, okay. Kitchen cabinet above the sink.”

Marinette quickly fetched the kit and returned next to Adrien. When he took his coat off and rolled his sleeve up, Marinette recoiled. “Ohh, that’s quite a bit of blood,” she breathed, looking at the injury with wide eyes.

“It’s just a graze.” She kept staring. He got the impression that Marinette didn’t do well with gore—ironic considering how she could inflict unworldly injuries, but that was beside the point. Adrien reached over to take the kit from her. “I can do it myself—“

“NO!” She yanked the kit out of reach. “No, I should do this much. I was supposed to be protecting you but you got shot instead.” She frowned as she took out a pad of gauze and rubbing alcohol. “I’m pretty bad at my job.”

“Don’t say that.” She looked up to see Adrien gazing into her eyes intently. The back of her neck prickled as shamrock green eyes bored into hers. “You’re a good bodyguard, okay? It was my choice to cover you like that.”

“Yeah, and why?” She quickly looked down as she daubed some alcohol on the gauze, glad for an excuse to escape the prickly sensation that had erupted and made her hands clammy for some reason. “You’ve reversed the roles. I’m supposed to be protecting you.”

He was quiet as she dabbed the gauze on his cut. For such a dramatic person, he didn’t make a peep of noise as she put the alcohol on, which was sure to be painful.While she wrapped the cut with a bandage roll, he finally said, “That’s right. You’re a lot stronger than me, and you’re my bodyguard. Is it bad that I still don’t want to see you get hurt?” She paused in her actions and looked up to see that he was gazing down at her in that same way again. She whipped her head back down, but could feel the blush come on nonetheless. _Why is he staring at me?_

“Ow ow ow ow!” Adrien yelped. Marinette gave a start and found that she’d accidentally pulled his bandage way too tight. His arm was already slightly bluish. “I’m sorry for whatever I said but you’re cutting off my circulation!” Marinette let go of the bandage with a squeak.

“S-sorry! I didn’t mean that…”

Adrien massaged his arm to get the blood flow back in place. “You really _are_ strong.” He finished wrapping the bandage himself, much to Marinette’s chagrin. His face lowered into a glower.

“I need to stop my father, and quick. He actually resorted to shooting…” He ducked his head. Marinette squinted—his lower lip looked like it was trembling. Whatever it was, it wore off quickly as he looked back up again. “But anyways, I should get what I came here for.” He stood up on shaky legs and put a hand to his head with a wince. “And some ibuprofen. Can you wait here while I look inside for the files?” Under his breath, he mumbled, “If I even _have_ the files. I swear it was Plagg…”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Sure, go ahead and look.” She was glad he was feeling well enough to slander Plagg again.  Clearly his headache had been muddling his thoughts before when he was talking about not wanting to see her get hurt…and when he was staring at her like that…

Right?

…

Adrien stumbled into his bedroom, one hand against the wall for support. Maybe even ibuprofen wasn’t strong enough for his splitting headache, but he hoped that it would do something soon. The floor looked like it was tilting if he went long enough without blinking. And it was probably his headache that made him say such a stupid thing…

_Is it bad that I still don’t want to see you get hurt?_ Adrien cringed and had to refrain from face-palming himself. _That_ would surely feel like an explosion in his head. He still groaned to himself. _“Why_ did I say that? Really, Adrien?”

He rubbed his temples, determined to let the memory go, before going deeper into the room to the back where his closet doors slid shut. He opened one and dropped to his knees to pull out all the boxes on the ground.

“Stupid Plagg,” he muttered under his breath. “If I had it I wouldn’t have put the files all the way inside my closet!” He rummaged through a box and, as expected, didn’t find what he was looking for. But the box, he noticed, was filled with stuff that he hadn’t looked at for a long time. When cleaning, people tend to get sidetracked by old things—and Adrien was no exception. He pulled out a paper at random which was folded into an unusually thick stack. It unfolded to be an exceptionally large piece, the length of which had to be at least a yard. He had to set it down on the ground to see the entirety of it, and only then did he fully recognize what it was.

“Ah, my family tree.” His father had given him a copy back when he was in the manor to study the history of their family, the Agreste name, yada yada. The usual lesson to try and instill some familial pride in Adrien which had failed as per usual. Adrien usually didn’t keep anything that came from his father, but the family tree was one exception. His mom’s name was on it after all. He was always more interested in her side of the tree, anyways. He gingerly smoothed out her side of the paper.

He traced his eyes over her name and then made his way upwards. He’d always wondered what it would be like to meet his grandparents. They were all long gone by the time he was born, but were his mom’s parents kind? Were they strict? How did they raise such a perfect person like his mom?

He skimmed the rest of the way up, not really paying attention to the names past his grandparents’. There were _so many—_ his family had been very good about knowing their roots. As he began folding the paper back up, his eyes snagged on a name near the top corner on his mom’s side.

“…what?” He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed them to make sure his headache wasn’t making him see things. He opened his eyes, let them refocus and quickly unfolded the paper, holding the corner up to his eyes. No, the name was there. It wasn’t his imagination.

_Marion Villeneuve._

**…**

_18 years ago_

“Mama! Mama, look!” A 7-year-old Adrien giddily pointed up at the sky with one hand, the other tugging at his mom’s sleeve next to him. “Another one!”

“Really?” She craned her neck up to look where he was pointing. “Oh my goodness! You’re right, there is another one. What does it look like to you?”

“It kind of looks like… a cat!” His face broke out into a grin. “A cat playing the piano!”

The two of them lay side by side in the Agreste Manor’s expansive backyard. It was more of a garden than a backyard, though. Lush green grass rolled out for hundreds of feet where tens of cherry trees were planted periodically. A stone path cut through the garden that made for leisurely evening walks, multiple birdbaths on the way. In the center of the garden was a large stone fountain spouting water, at the base of which lilies, petunias, and roses were planted. All the flowers were in full bloom seeing as it was the peak of spring, letting their perfume permeate the air. Birds chorused from the pink cherry trees and the dappled sunlight caught parts of their faces as they lay beneath the trees.

This was routine for them. For every day that it was a clear sky (and not too hot), they would go in their garden and lay down to look at clouds. And Adrien loved it. Most 7-year-olds wouldn’t have the patience to lie down and stare at the sky for hours, but Adrien couldn’t get enough of it. Part of the reason was because he always, _always_ saw the best shaped clouds when he was with his mom. His imagination didn’t even have to reach far to make out the pictures: a turtle with headphones, a fox with a camera, a bee in a lavish gown. The whimsical images were clear as day in the fluffy clouds floating by.

But only when his mom was with him did he see the interesting clouds. He’d tried on his own before—and not only had it been less fun without his mom there with him, but the only shapes he saw were lumps of cotton. When his mom was with him, the magical clouds came out, and he noticed this.

“Mama.” He shifted so that he lay on his side to look at his mom. “Are you magic?”

When she turned to face him, amusement shimmering in her eyes, her hair caught the sunlight so that it looked like real gold. “I knew you were a smart little one. You’re right, I am magic.”

Adrien giggled. “I was joking, Mama!”

“I’m not.” She smiled and bopped his nose. “Your mama has magic.”

“No, you don’t!” She tickled his sides and he squirmed, giggles bursting out into full-blown laughter.

…

Adrien stared at the name without blinking for so long that spots began floating in his vision. He didn’t even have to think hard about it. His mom’s ancestor was Marion Villeneuve, the lady they read about in the book, and Marion Villeneuve had a curse. That power got passed down to his mom. It was obvious. But why couldn’t she have ever told him?

A memory floated to the forefront of his mind. _‘Your mama has magic.’_

Why couldn’t she have ever _seriously_ told him?

A thought suddenly struck him. His mom had died under mysterious conditions. The police couldn’t find any evidence to a murder or suicide; doctors called it an unknown disease, a mysterious affliction that they’d never seen before.

Could that have been due to the curse?

His bedroom door suddenly creaked open, sending a slat of light into the room. Adrien jumped at the noise. He must have been in there for so long that Marinette got impatient.

“Adrien?” She called out. “Are you in here?”

He swallowed and blotted his nose and eyes with his sleeve before croaking, “Down here.”

Marinette walked into his room until she was standing in front of him. She looked down at him in… concern? Her eyebrows were furrowed, but she didn’t look irritated or impatient. She looked worried. He quickly looked back down.

After a few long moments of silence, she finally asked, “Is that the file?” Adrien’s grip tightened on the family tree, slightly crinkling the edges. “No, this…” He warily glanced up again. Should he tell her?

Her face, open and expressive, made Adrien release the tension in his shoulders with clarity. _I’m done with secrets._ “This is my family tree.”

“Really?” Instead of asking why he’d been looking at it, she sat down on the ground next to him. “That’s huge.” Adrien let out a laugh.

“Yeah. It is. And this is what I found.” He angled the paper so she could see and pointed at the name. Marinette’s eyes widened.

“Oh,” she whispered.

“Yeah.” Adrien turned the paper back to him and stared at the name as if it would disappear. “So my mom also must have had that nightmare power if it got passed down.” When Marinette stayed quiet, he filled the silence. “Can I ask you a question?”

“What is it?”

“Can your power kill you?”

If Marinette was surprised by his question, she didn’t show it. Instead, she stared into the dark gaping hole that was his open closet as she considered it. Finally, she said, “I don’t really know. I can only tell you about my own super strength, and for me, if I misuse my power it gets taken away.” She shuddered. “Along with some equivalent, karma payback.”

“Karma payback?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “Like…explosive diarrhea if I beat up someone innocent for no reason.”

Adrien snorted. “Explosive diarrhea?” He abruptly had a realization.  “Hold on—so when we tracked down that motorcycle and you accidentally knocked that guy out…”

“I was afraid for my life,” Marinette said somberly. “Luckily it didn’t happen because I thought I was doing the right thing, but I was about to cry.” Adrien’s face puffed out in barely restrained laughter. “It’s really scary! I don’t know if you’ve ever had diarrhea before, but it’s extremely painful and disgusting and”—Adrien finally burst out into laughter—“frankly not something people should joke about.” Despite her words, Marinette smiled at the sight of Adrien laughing, _really_ laughing. She realized she’d never seen him laugh like that before. The sound of it was really nice. Full and rich and genuine. She liked his laugh.

Wait, what?

“Umm—anyways,” she stuttered, quickly banishing the thoughts in her head, “If your Plagg isn’t here we should go back file and office.” She stopped. _What?_ Adrien was now staring at her. She opened her mouth and tried again. “Go back office and file Plagg.”

“Go back to the office and tell Plagg to get the files?” Adrien supplied. Marinette nodded vigorously and stood up, turning away from him.

“Yeah. That.” She walked out of the room as coolly as she could without saying anything else and took the few minutes she got outside to herself to cool her cheeks down. _Did I just word vomit? What the everloving hell was that?!_ Painful flashbacks to her _lycée_ days and first few encounters with Luka echoed in her mind. She half-groaned, half-screamed as she pulled on her hair.

“Uhhh.” She turned and saw Adrien standing at the bedroom, clearly having witnessed her inner demon shrieking moment. “Do you… need some time?”

Marinette blew a lock of hair out of her eyes. _Just kill me now._

…

Alya looked up at the sound of the bell ringing. She was waiting again for Marinette to come back home from work, sitting at a table in the empty bakery. By spending daytimes with her family and nighttimes with the Dupain-Chengs (her second family) Alya got to fully maximize on the little free time she had. She’d have to leave the day after tomorrow for work, so she was planning to have dinner with Marinette tonight.

And it looked like her friend really needed it. As soon as Marinette walked in, Alya raised her eyebrows and set her phone down, because she looked _haggard._ Marinette had somehow developed eyebags over the course of the day and her hair was sticking up in various places, as if she’d been sleeping on an airplane for fifteen hours straight. Her mouth was drooping down listlessly, yet her eyes were alight with a frustrated fire.

“This is all your fault,” was the first thing she hissed at Alya. Alya propped her chin on her hand.

“Hello to you, too.”

“Your fault and Mom’s,” Marinette added on as she flung her bag at a table. Luckily, it missed and cracked into the ground instead of destroying the table. “Ugh!”

“Care to tell me what I’m at fault for?” Alya asked, not too keen on having her superpowered best friend demolish everything in a fit of rage. Marinette threw herself into the chair opposite Alya and, with a wail, shoved her head into her arms.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into me! I kept mixing up my words like how I used to back in _lycée_ around Adrien today and it was all that happened all the way from when we were at his house to when we got back to work and it was so awkward and I—“

“Slow down,” Alya instructed. Marinette finally paused, heaving breaths. “You’re word vomiting again?”

“Yes!” Marinette exploded. “And I don’t know why! It’s like the switch is turned on again. I think one thing, and say something else! It’s ruined my whole day. I said some really stupid things and—“ She shoved her face into her hands. “—ohmygod, I don’t even want to think about it!”

Alya adjusted her glasses, fighting hard to stave off the smirk that wanted to make its way onto her face. Marinette mixing up her words could only mean one thing. If she wanted answers, she would have to play it carefully or Marinette would clam up and refuse to say anything like the stubborn person she was. “And this is my fault because…”

“Because you said that stuff about Adrien last night and now it’s messing with my head!” Marinette rambled. “Even though I know you’re wrong and I like Luka. It’s just annoying.”

“Am I really wrong though?” Alya grinned. “Come on. Your mom was right. If she didn’t sense anything, I doubt Adrien really is gay.”

“No. No. Stop that! Didn’t you hear what I just said? Stop messing with my head!” Marinette raked her hands through her hair, providing an explanation to Alya as to how her hair ended up in that state. “He is gay. Adrien is gay. Adrien is gay.” She quietly chanted the mantra to herself under her breath. “I like Luka. I like Luka. I like gay…GAH!”

Alya finally snickered, unable to hold in her laughter any longer. “Oh, you poor, poor soul.”

“Whatever,” Marinette pouted, dropping her hands (hair much, much worse than it was before). “You’re leaving in a day, right? Are we up to dinner tonight?”

“You know me so well,” Alya grinned. “But I’ll be the one to pick up our ingredients. You cannot go out again looking like that.”

“Looking like what?” Marinette took her phone out to check her reflection and almost dropped it right away. “Oh my GOD! Is that me?!” While Marinette freaked out over her appearance (" _I walked home looking like THIS?!_ "), Alya pulled on a jacket and headed out into the night to pick up what they needed from the neighborhood store.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little shorter chapter today. It's with Lila again--yuck, i know, but it has to be done. Enjoy, and thank you to those people that commented and left kudos :)

Lila smirked at the photos on her phone, zooming in on the circles she’d drawn on. Cameras—all 18 of them, and she knew where every single one was.

Men were too easy. A flutter of the eye here, a smile there, a wink—they were putty in your hands just for your pleasure, just like that. You could shape them any way you wanted. Or, the word Lila preferred, manipulate. It just had a certain ring to it.

She tucked her phone into the pocket of the black jacket she’d suited up in once again, shut off the light above the dingy little table, and exited the mini-workshop built into her hideout.

She stepped out into the main chamber. She’d situated the lamb in the far, top right corner, where it was dark and the only think she could see were her ratty, cut-up feet. One reason for that was that she kept asking why, why Lila had to keep her prisoner. For some reason, when she’d seen Lila’s real face she had gotten hopeful.

_“You’re a woman?”_ she’d gasped out. _“Then… why are you…_ ”

“ _You’re here because I can’t have you telling on me,”_ Lila had replied, and grinned when the hope in her eyes shattered. How satisfying. The lamb had then gone on to blubber about how she wouldn’t tell a soul, but…

Lila knew liars, of course. It takes one to know one. The lamb had earned a new bruise on her face for that and, of course, her special cell situated far away.

The more time passed by without Lila getting her hands on the pesky ladybug, the more her hands itched as if waiting for delicious revenge. She _knew_ the girl was in this neighborhood—she had seen fissures and cracks near a redevelopment while driving by that looked manmade, and through a little bit of snooping (and using her feminine wiles, of course) she managed to extract information from locals about what happened. According to them gangsters had fought amongst themselves, but the injuries the locals talked of told Lila that only abnormal strength could manage fractures like _that._ It had to be the ladybug.

But she was only abnormally strong. Maybe she knew martial arts—but martial arts would be no good if Lila snuck up on her in the dark and weakened her right away.

So far, attacking random girls in the neighborhood late at night wasn’t working. Even if it served for a momentary thrill, Lila wanted _revenge,_ not a temporary night of fun. But so be it. If it was the price she had to pay—having to keep sniveling girls in her company for days, weeks even, until she got her hands on the right one—then she would pay it. She would do anything.

With new conviction, Lila set out into the night. Another night, another round of business.

…

She made sure to keep clear of the security cameras. The map, she’d already imprinted in her mind—if she took her phone out to check, the camera may catch it and it could lead back to her real identity. Destroying the cameras would have to come later. For now, she didn’t want to let the police see her mask. They were awfully stupid, but giving them hints would just be a rookie mistake. The longer they thought they could catch her using a camera, the more time she would gain for herself to find the ladybug with as little obstacles as possible.

She climbed up a fire escape and waited around. From her vantage point, she could clearly see a pharmacy and the neighborhood convenience store lit up against the dark night. A quick scan over her mind-map confirmed that there were no cameras around here. The police probably thought that she wouldn’t attack so close to public places.

Idiots, the lot of them.

Lila perked up when she saw a figure walk into the store. When she made it inside and the artificial lighting colored the person’s face, Lila squinted to see clearly.

The lady didn’t have blue eyes… but then again, Lila couldn’t discriminate. Contacts were a thing. Besides, if she was focusing on color, then she’d have gone after that frantic-looking girl she’d run into at the hospital. No—what she cared more about was the look on their face. Ambitious, righteous, maybe even brash. Not frantic. Not pleading.

She licked her lips in interest when she found positives signs in the young woman’s face. Her eyebrows were arched over eyes glimmering with intelligence behind thick frames, as if she knew more than she was letting on. Her mouth was set in a satisfied smirk, as if she was thinking of something that amused her. Lila tried to imagine the woman looking at her, irritated and clutching her wrist, and found that the image fit in easily. This girl, Lila thought, was not a lamb.

Lila’s lips split into a grin. She waited patiently as the dark-skinned woman walked around the store, putting items into the basket that hung at her wrist. She watched as she made her way to the cashier. She straightened up when the girl walked out of the store.

Lila trailed along on the rooftop for a few paces. When the woman was finally far away enough from the store that the cashier inside wouldn’t notice anything, Lila slid down the fire escape and started after her.

The woman almost immediately noticed. Instead of speeding up and trying to run away, she stopped and turned around, scanning her surroundings. Lila had barely pressed against a wall in time to avoid her gaze. After a few moments, the girl turned around and set off again, bag of groceries hanging from her hand.

Lila’s heart sped up in excitement. She could feel it. She was getting closer. The way the girl had turned around instead of trying to run—that wasn’t prey behavior. Lila was right, this one wasn’t a lamb.

Lila waited for three seconds before going around and running on the other side of the block, parallel to where she knew the girl would be. After she crossed the calculated amount, she took a turn out into the same alleyway and came face to face with the lady.

Her arched eyebrows rose in surprise. Lila had to give her credit—she didn’t even scream at the sight of the flesh mask.

Suddenly something was slamming into Lila’s chin. She reeled back and almost fell, realizing a second later that vegetables were rolling around on the ground. She’d been decked in the face with the grocery bag. However, instead of being angry, Lila’s excitement rose. _It’s her. I found you, Ladybug._ The girl tried running past, but Lila managed to get past her dizziness and grabbed onto her wrist just in time. The girl immediately tried yanking her hand back, causing Lila to jolt.

It felt so familiar, the way she jolted her. Just like when she’d wrenched Lila’s hand off of her neck. Lila could hardly contain her thrill. _Ladybug, ladybug, ladybug._

She slid out her winning weapon from underneath her jacket. After the last two attempts, she’d come to a conclusion: she needed a weapon, but not one that could accidentally kill. Hence the metal pipe she held now. With one swing, the girl’s hand fell limp in Lila’s grasp. With another swing, she crumpled to the ground. Her glasses fell off and cracked on the pavement.

Lila was buzzing with energy. Eight years. It had been eight years and now what she’d been working towards was finally here, on the ground in front of her. She couldn’t kill her, but who was she to deny her desires? Lila slammed the pipe into the girl’s torso. Then her legs. Then over her arms. With each hit, each new streak of red that opened up on the girl’s skin, Lila felt the need for more. It just felt _so good._ There was the saying that revenge was best served cold. In the cold of the night, with her breath puffing out in front of her, she couldn’t agree more. With the frigid air pressing in around her, she felt more warm and alive in her buzzing skin than ever before.

She raised the pipe up again over her head. _Where should I hit? What about her pretty face?_ Lila grasped the pipe tighter, ready to bring it down once more, when—

She pulled. It didn’t budge. _What?_ Lila tried once more, failed, and turned around.

In the dark, she could see the outline of a person holding on to the pipe. She yanked on the pipe again, but only her body moved.

Lila’s brain was struggling to understand. Was it an apparition? A guardian angel? She didn’t believe in the supernatural, but nothing else could explain the unearthly force that they were grounding her with.

Lamplights reflected in icy blue eyes that rose to meet hers. Lila froze completely, ice filtering through her veins. No. _No._ It couldn’t be.

She had been transported back to the mall. Back to that public bathroom. Those eyes, that look… they hadn’t changed a single bit over the course of eight years. No contacts, no fear. Except this time they were alight with real rage, nothing like the mild irritation from before.

Lila only had a second to feel the sudden pressure on her ribcage before she was sent flying back. _Literally_ sailing through the air. She covered a whole nine feet before her body slammed against the ground and rolled. Scrapes of fabric peeled away as the ground ripped her clothing open and rocks sliced any exposed skin, but Lila couldn’t feel any of the pain on her skin, because she couldn’t _breathe._ There was a tension in her ribcage that felt like it was stifling every one of her movements. Inhaling felt like she was pushing a knife through her rib bones. _Broken._ Somewhere in her mind, the fact rung true. She didn’t need a doctor to check it to know. _My ribs are broken._

Lila wheezed and dragged herself up using a wall, quickly limping into the dark. The newcomer hadn’t chased her—she was occupied with the woman Lila had beaten.

“Newcomer”… or should she say, the real Ladybug.

…

“You didn’t tell me she would be this strong!” Lila shouted into the phone, gasping in between words. When she coughed, blood would come out of her mouth.

In dragging herself back to her hideout, the wounds that she’d gained from one kick had fired up with a vengeance. She could feel every cut, scrape, and bruise on top of her broken ribs. She could hardly speak, let alone move, but anger let her scream into the phone to the man. He was her boss of sorts, but only for the time being. Lila hated being told what to do, but he was the one supplying her with a hideout and a place to stay in the neighborhood while she went on her… _getaways_ , so she had to comply.

_“I told you she was abnormally strong,”_ the cold voice snipped from the other side. _“You were the one who so readily agreed to catch her for me. Did you not want revenge?”_

Lila clenched her teeth. “I thought she was trained in martial arts or something. She sent me flying back with one kick. There’s something wrong with her!”

_“If you wish to back out—“_

“I’m not backing out,” Lila snarled. “I just have to figure something else out. There must be another way.”

_“Whatever you do, don’t kill her. I want her alive.”_

“I know, I know, you’ve only told me this every time we speak,” Lila snapped. She cut off the call and barely refrained from throwing the phone against the wall. She couldn’t really afford another burner at the moment—not to mention she couldn’t even muster the energy to raise her arm anymore.

The anger slowly trickled out of her system. Adrenaline had been the only thing she’d been running on, but pain and exhaustion caught up to her in a sudden dizzy. Lila slumped down against her work table, holding on with clenched fists.

She had sorely underestimated the ladybug’s strength. There was more at play behind it than just martial-arts training like Lila had first thought. She would need more than just a pipe and the cover of darkness to come out victorious.

There had to be another way… she would have to find one. She wouldn’t give up now just because of a little setback.

Not to mention… she was suddenly a lot more curious about why the boss wanted her in one piece. That unearthly strength. Him wanting her enough that he set Lila up in the neighborhood. What was going on?

Whatever it was, Lila would find out. And then maybe she’d do things according to her own interests, not the cursed boss’.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw man, guys. I have school starting monday D; And im gonna be a junior. Yikes, am I prepared to Perish. I hope i can keep getting chapters of this story out....fffsihihs
> 
> Also, I realize I may have needed to put a mild-gore (?) warning for last chapter since Lila did go all... pipe slamming... it wasn't too descriptive, but i still apologize if it may have freaked you out? I feel like this story's different tones can give you (and me) whiplash... Although the drama this is based on is also like that, so maybe I'm doing a good job! 
> 
> BUT ANYWHO, I know you are all probably worried about Alya, so enjoy :)

“Alya, Alya, please,” Marinette hiccupped, barely able to see through the tears that blurred her vision. She didn’t even want to see clearly, though: Alya’s body was battered and beat. Numerous welts rose up on her skin and her clothing was sticky with blood. Marinette could hardly breathe. Alya was unconscious… or…

_No, no, no._ Dazedly, while Marinette held on to her best friend, she somehow managed to dial 112. Police cars and ambulances were around them in a heartbeat. Marinette didn’t know how they got there so suddenly. Wasn’t it just one second ago that Marinette had seen the culprit about to bring down a pipe on Alya? Everything became a haze of high-pitched ringing and flashing colors, but Marinette didn’t care. She just wanted to hold on tight to Alya until her eyes opened again. Why weren’t her eyes opening?

Someone was trying to take Alya away from her. Marinette resisted, tugging her back with ease. They said something. She couldn’t hear; everything was muffled and blurry, she could only see Alya, with her bleeding and broken skin, eyes closed, hair tangled—someone was sobbing now, she could hear them clearly. It took her a second to realize that _she_ was the one sobbing.

Marinette squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face into Alya’s hair. _Please._ She didn’t care how she probably looked insane, crouched in an alleyway at night, holding on to her best friend’s injured body. She didn’t care at all.   _Alya, wake up, wake up, wake up…_

Warm hands were suddenly shaking her shoulders. Marinette almost shoved them away, but then a voice shouted right into her ear.

“ _Marinette!”_ She paused. She knew that voice… it was…

“Luka?” When did he get here?

“Marinette, get up!” She didn’t want to, but in the moment she’d stopped focusing on holding Alya, Luka managed to tug her up into a sitting position. Her head pounded as all the lights invaded her vision again. When she looked back, Alya was being taken away again. Marinette frantically scrambled, going after her. _No. No. I can’t lose her, I can’t—_

Luka’s voice cut in again. “Marinette, breathe.” His words made her pause. She realized she was hyperventilating and forced herself to suck in a breath slowly and then release. The world around her cleared: the ringing faded away, replaced by the wailing sirens of ambulances and police cars around her. The flashing colors attributed themselves to the lights on all the vehicles. Lots of people were at the sight, and Marinette realized that the hands taking Alya away had been the doctors trying to load her into the ambulance.

“Are you better now?” She turned back to Luka. In normal circumstances, she might care that her eyes were bloodshot and puffy, that her hair was an absolute mess and that snot was dripping from her nose, but she was too shaken to give a single thought to any of that. All she could see was Luka. He wasn’t even wearing a jacket despite the cold of the night and he was breathing hard, as if he’d been running.

Marinette bit her lip, trying hard not to cry more, but tears slipped out of their own accord. She felt a hand on the back of her head and suddenly Luka had pulled her in against his chest. He patted her back as she finally burst into sobs again, hands wringing the fabric of his shirt and snot running all over it. He didn’t say a single thing.

…

“Shouldn’t you have brought her back for questioning?” Theo asked Luka. They were driving back to the police station and, since Luka had run instead of taken his car, he had to go back with Theo. Which he wasn’t too keen on doing, since the man had a habit of asking questions when all Luka wanted to do was rest his mind. But he couldn’t blow his colleague off, and Theo _was_ giving him a ride and all…

“No,” Luka responded, leaning his head against the window as he watched flashing lights pass by in streaks. If he squinted the traffic lights would turn into diamonds. He used to do that a lot as a kid. He did so now in order to distract himself. “We can always ask questions later. Right now Marinette should be with Alya.”

The diamond-squinting method wasn’t working too well. Outside, he was calm—he had to be—but inwardly the anger he’d had toward the mystery culprit multiplied by a hundred times over the course of the night. Luka wasn’t as close with Alya as he was with Marinette, but he still knew the girl from _lycée,_ and to see her lying in the road like some kind of punching bag… it made his blood boil. He wanted to catch the culprit.

And then there was the way Marinette had been sobbing for nearly a whole hour. Usually so cheerful and bubbly, bright enough to light up a room, and the kidnapper had reduced her to a gloomy husk of herself.

Thinking about how she’d been made Luka realize he was wrong; he didn’t want to just catch the culprit. He wanted to do something more _to_ the culprit... something that would probably be considered unpolicelike.

“It was amazing that you could track her down without the address,” Theo commented. “I didn’t think you’d make it there.”

Luka closed his eyes.

...

A call cut through the relative silence of their work room. One of their operators had gotten a call. When she picked up the phone, a voice rang out, frantic and choked, speaking near nonsense.

_“Please… my best friend, she—there was—the lady, like with Danielle, and she had a pipe—“_

“Miss,” the operator tried cutting in. “Miss, please, we need you to calm down. Please slow down and give us details—“ But it was no use. The woman, whoever it was on the other end, was frenzied and seemingly couldn’t hear the operator.

The second Luka heard the voice, he froze. For a split second, he couldn’t move. The only thing that moved in him was his beating heart, which had sped up to double its speed. He knew that voice. It was like one of his worst nightmares come true to hear it on the other end like that.

It was Marinette.

He pushed away from his desk—maybe with a little too much force, because his chair slammed back against the wall—and bolted off without even putting on his jacket. Vaguely, he could hear several of his teammates call out to him, but he didn’t stop, not even when the cold night air hit him outside, or when his lungs started to feel like they were burning.

21st arrondissement. A runaway kidnapper; one that had seen Marinette’s face. He was so _stupid._ He should have gotten her a new bodyguard right after Ivan was dispatched. How could he think that Marinette was safer just from a few measly cameras?

Why couldn’t he protect her?

Cursing in his head, he ran hard until he reached the 21st arrondissement. When he stopped in front of the bakery, the site was dark and empty, just as he had expected. He had no idea as to where she could have gone; he would have to check the local stores in the area, the pharmacy—or maybe she’d gone out for a walk, in which case he would have to check all the alleyways—

A police car wailed as it drove by him and turned into the neighborhood. Luka gave a start as he realized it was a car from his own division. _They must have tracked the call by now._ Ignoring his fatigue, he pushed off again and ran after the car.

He ended up following it into an alleyway a little ways off from a store. Already, multiple ambulances, police cars and firetrucks were situated around the alleged crime site. He could see a swarm of people in the middle of it all, a mixture of police and doctors, all surrounding something. From between their legs, he could see a figure in pink hunched over.

He pushed through the crowd, ignoring whispers and protests, to see the center. Alya lay on the ground, unconscious and severely wounded, while Marinette crouched over her body and held it close from doctors trying to load her into the ambulance. It seemed like she couldn’t hear what they were trying to say; she kept shaking her head and holding onto Alya. They couldn’t pry her off no matter how hard they tried.

Luka fell to his knees behind her and said, “Marinette.” She didn’t respond. “Marinette!”

His ears picked up on the whisper that was hardly there. “Luka?”

“Marinette, get up!” She paused. The doctors took the fleeting chance and got a hold on Alya to carry her away. Marinette started scrambling after, hardly breathing.

“Marinette, breathe.” She stopped again and Luka knew from the rise and fall of her shoulders that she’d finally listened. He waited for a few moments, watching her back as she sat there, very still. Then he asked, “Are you better now?” She turned around at that.

When he got a full view of her face, he wanted to hit himself.

Face streaked red. Puffy eyes. Dripping nose. Lashes clumped together with tears. And it was his fault. _Your fault. Your fault. You couldn’t protect her. It’s all your fault._

It was his fault, yet he was still selfish, because when she began crying again, he pulled her in close. It was partly to comfort her, but partly to comfort himself, too. He hated the horrible voice in his mind that whispered, _At least it wasn’t Marinette._ What an evil thought. He banished it immediately yet couldn’t scrub away the guilt that it caused.

But that was him. Guilty. Evil. Selfish. And he still couldn’t protect Marinette, no matter how tightly he held her in his arms.

…

“You know, you can go home,” Marlena said softly. Marinette didn’t take her eyes off of Alya lying in the bed.

After crying for an embarrassingly long time (even more embarrassing when she saw the streaks of snot she left on Luka’s shirt), Marinette managed to get up. Even though Luka told her she ought to go home and even offered to take her there, Marinette ended up at the hospital instead, where she managed to run into Marlena and Nora. They had gotten the news and rushed over as soon as possible. They were managing to hold themselves together much better than Marinette, but then again, cool headed-Marlena and tough-as-a-cookie-Nora were very different from emotional-train wreck-Marinette.

Then when they had been directed to Alya’s room in the ICU, they’d been forced to wait outside while the doctors worked with Alya’s more severe injuries and patched her up. Marlena’s worry leaked through then as she asked for updates every two minutes. Finally, after what seemed like hours, a doctor came and told them that Alya was out of immediate danger. Marlena had shoved past him into her daughter’s room, followed by Nora, followed by Marinette.

Seeing Danielle had made Marinette’s stomach turn. Seeing Alya was like that but a million times worse. Add on cool headed-Marlena sobbing and tough-as-a-cookie-Nora shielding her eyes with a hand and it was like rubbing salt in the wound. Marinette felt guilt wrack every cell in her body.

_This is my fault. Why did I let Alya go? I should have been the one to go. Even worse…_ Marinette thought back to when she came upon the kidnapper raising the pipe over their head for one final, devastating blow. She couldn’t even remember what had happened next; all she had seen was red and she had known that no matter what, that pipe could not come down. She got the kidnapper out of the way and then started freaking out over Alya. _I could have caught the kidnapper, but I let her go._ All Marinette could hope was that whatever she did in the heat of the moment had injured the kidnapper enough to hold off any near future attempts.

She felt horrible. She felt even worse when Marlena, tears in her eyes, had turned around and thanked Marinette over and over for getting to Alya before anything worse could happen. She didn’t deserve thanks. She should have been getting yelled at for being so incompetent. For being so weak despite having so much strength.

Marinette brought herself back to the present as Nora’s fists tightened around the bed’s frame. “I told you Alya needs protecting,” she thundered. Her grief had melted away to anger. “That stupid kidnapper—I’ll catch him and wring his neck out for this. Alya shouldn’t go anywhere alone from now on, even in daylight.”

“She’s not a little girl,” Marlena said, resigned. “Alya is a grown woman. You can’t force her to leave her job. She’ll force her way out if she has to.”

“She went and got herself beat up—“

“This isn’t her fault,” Marlena interrupted. “It’s always the attacker’s fault. Not the victim’s.”

Nora deflated. “I know…that’s not what I meant. I just…”

Marinette watched the exchange silently. Marlena and Nora looked exhausted. Marinette figured that was how she looked, too. How was it already past midnight? They had gone a whole day at work and come straight to the hospital. They must have been even more tired than they looked.

Even herself—it felt like a million years ago she was worrying about Adrien’s stalker and his getting shot. That felt like a different lifetime, but it had somehow been earlier that very day.

“You two should go home,” Marinette said. They raised their heads. “Tell Otis and the twins that Alya’s going to be fine. You can even prepare food for her tomorrow, since she’ll definitely complain about the hospital food.” A corner of Marinette’s mouth quirked up in a rueful smile.

Marlena looked reluctant. “What about your parents? Won’t they want you home?”

Marinette opened her mouth to answer, but as if on cue, the door burst open again. Sabine and Tom rushed inside, wearing their pajamas, leaving a stuttering doctor trailing behind them uncertainly. “Um, ma’am, mister, you can’t do that…”

Tom, the more emotional of the two, teared up on sight and covered his mouth with a huge hand. “Oh, Alya!”

Sabine’s eyes flitted over Alya’s form, her lips pursed. Meanwhile, the doctor was trying to tug at their arms. “You have to prove your relationship to the patient before coming inside—“

“I’m her mother, and I say they can be allowed inside,” Marlena interjected. The doctor paused and looked at her with wide eyes. “If I consent, it’s fine, right?”

“Uh…” There was a cracking noise. The doctor jerked and saw Nora looming behind Marlena, cracking her knuckles.

“Yes!” The doctor squeaked. “It’s fine!” He scuttled out of the room. Marlena shook her head.

“You should stop threatening people, Nora.”

“Wasn’t threatening,” she grunted and turned to Sabine and Tom. “Long time no see.”

Sabine smiled. “You too, although I wish it were under better circumstances.” She glanced at her husband. “Tom, maybe you should get tissues.” Tears and snot were streaming down his face. It was clear who Marinette got _that_ from.

“You poor thing,” he blubbered as he sat next to Alya’s bed on a stool. She remained comatose, expression neutral and relaxed as if she was taking a nap rather than laying in the ICU after being beaten with a metal pipe. “This is horrible.”

Marlena finally got up, though with some difficulty. “I really should get going… you were right,” she added to Marinette. “Otis, Ella and Etta will want to know how she’s doing. If I get up early tomorrow I can make Alya’s favorite stew.” She patted Nora’s bicep. “Come on. You should also come. We need to get up early tomorrow for the stew.”

“Me too?” Nora asked. “I suck at cooking.”

“You chop vegetables,” Marlena said as she collected her things. With a final wave to the Dupain-Cheng family, the mother-daughter duo was out the door, still discussing the stew. It seemed like they were distracting themselves with it. “Although don’t puree them like last time… I still don’t understand how that’s possible with a knife.”

“Because potatoes are puny and weak. I could crush them in my fist.”

“You crushed them in your fist?” Their voices faded as they headed down the hall. Tom’s tears had dried up by now (he was emotional, but also short-lived in those) and Sabine sat down in a chair next to him. She finally cast a glance to Marinette.

“What happened?” She asked softly. Marinette winced. She knew her mom was really asking, _Why did this happen?_

Her voice came out as a whisper. “We… we were going to cook dinner. I’d just gotten home from work, so Alya volunteered to go get our ingredients.” Marinette slumped. “I was so distracted at the time that I didn’t… I didn’t even think about it. When she hadn’t come back for a while, even though she usually takes only five minutes on those kinds of neighborhood trips, I went looking for her. And then on the way to the store…”

The image flashed in her mind and she had to swallow to keep the bile down. Alya’s crumpled body on the pavement. The silhouette of the culprit with a pipe raised high over their head. “I saw them. The kidnapper was about to hit Alya again. I don’t really know how, but I stopped it. Maybe I kicked, or…” Marinette rubbed the heels of her hands into her eyes. “I can’t remember. I just freaked out when I could have caught them and ended it.”

“Don’t blame yourself. It’s the attacker’s fault,” Sabine said firmly, her words an echo of Marlena’s previous ones. “It’s a good thing you got to Alya in time. Although, I wonder…” Sabine cocked her head. “What’s the story you told Marlena and Nora? You couldn’t have told them that you fought off the kidnapper, right?”

“I said that I screamed and the kidnapper ran away,” Marinette replied. “That’s what I’ll tell the police when they show up, too.”

Tom checked the time on his phone. “It’s already half past midnight. If we’re going to open the bakery tomorrow…” He cast a worried look to Sabine.

“You guys go,” Marinette said firmly. “I texted you to let you know I’m here, not so that you stay with me the whole night.”

Sabine’s eyes widened. “You’re staying the whole night?”

“Until Alya wakes up. Whenever that is.” Marinette stood up and began to shoo her parents out of the room. “ _Go,_ you have to wake up early for the bakery.”

“What about your work?”

“I’ll call Adri—my boss,” Marinette stumbled over her words. “He’ll understand.”

Sabine and Tom exchanged a look which Marinette couldn’t decipher before finally letting themselves be pushed out by her. “Try to get some sleep, alright?”

Marinette nodded along but knew she would be keeping vigil all night. It was the least she could do for Alya after failing her so badly. If she was sleeping anytime soon it’d be while she was sitting up next to Alya’s bed, not laying down on the couch that was against the far wall. Her parents left and she shut the door, turning back to Alya with a sigh.

She had more gauze and bandages on than Danielle did. Marinette could see bandages peeking out from the collar of her hospital gown. There must have been bandages rolled around her torso. Parts of her face were blotted red and purple. The corner of her lip was busted, swelling up and dark red. For some reason, the culprit had kept on hitting Alya even after she fell unconscious. Marinette couldn’t get why—and it made her shake with rage. What the hell was their problem that they would do this to an innocent person?

“I’m sorry,” Marinette whispered, sitting down next to Alya again. Her skin looked like a sickly pale version of its normal golden brown, emphasizing dark circles under her eyes. “I’ll get you new glasses. The frames you’ve been looking at for a while but haven’t been able to buy yet. I’ll see if there’s some way I can get your optometry information…” Marinette sniffed. No tears came out; she had cried herself dry for the night. “And we’ll do dinner later, and _I’m_ buying the ingredients. I’ll call in your work for you and tell them you’ll take two weeks off… if I let you call, then you’ll only take a day, so I kinda have to.”

She kept talking like that to Alya for a long time, until her words slurred and her chin fell against her chest.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm officially crying inside. School starts tomorrow ;( alas, my lazy days are over. And my sleeping days. I'm going to have to dissociate from sleep now :(((
> 
> Any advice for a high school junior?

Marinette blearily opened her eyes. It took a few tries to get them fully open, but she wiped the crusts away from her eyes and raised her head. Her neck instantly cracked. It was sore from her head being bent over for hours.

Marinette looked at the room through a squint. It wasn’t completely lit up, but she could still see. _Early morning?_ A peek out the window confirmed it; it was that eerie time while the sun was rising, but hadn’t officially made it to sunrise status yet. She’d only fallen asleep for a few hours. It wasn’t dark, rather, everything was on mute. The colors, the sounds, and the sky outside were subdued. The beeping of Alya’s machine was the only thing breaking through the silence with full clarity periodically.

Marinette cracked her mouth open in a huge yawn and got up to go to the bathroom, stretching out her cramped muscles as she went. Alya hadn’t woken up yet, and there was probably still some time until she did.

When she came back, she sat down again with a sigh. Detectives would probably come by to wait for Alya’s awakening too, to see if she could remember any crucial details about the criminal. She faintly wondered if Luka would be with them, but her thoughts didn’t stray there for long. Instead, they went to work. To Adrien.

Would he answer if she called right now? She checked her phone. _5:25 AM._ There was a near zero percent chance that he would be awake. She recalled him talking about how much he hated getting calls from his stalker that interrupted his sleep, and decided to text him instead.

_‘Sorry, I won’t be able to come today. I’m staying with Alya in the hospital instead—a lot of stuff happened. I’ll tell you everything later.’_ Feeling guilty, she tacked on, _‘If anything happens with your stalker situation though, tell me ASAP. I’ll be over in a heartbeat.’_ In a heartbeat? No way. She erased it and replaced it with, _‘I’ll be over right away.’_ Marinette read the message over before finally hitting send and sighed.

Since when had she proofread messages before sending them to Adrien? He was a nerd. She could say whatever!

Marinette put her phone away, annoyed. It would be a while before Alya would wake up. She’d have to find something to kill time.

…

Adrien’s eyes shot open. His pupils dilated to adjust to the darkness of his bedroom and he slowly sat up, noticing the way his heart was pounding against his ribcage. When he touched the back of his neck, it felt cold and slick with sweat.

The dream had changed. It was emblazoned in his mind like a brand, nothing unlike the dreams where he had to hold on like trying to keep water in cupped hands. He remembered every single detail precisely because it was the same dream he got nearly every night.

Except it had changed.

The dream that he dubbed the ‘Ladybug Dream’ had never changed before. Not in the whole 8 years since he had first glimpsed the mystery person. It had always been the same, rinse and repeat: He would sit on the bus with his flowers to go to his mother’s grave. The bus would careen out of control. He would get up after the near-crash and look out the window to almost see Ladybug’s face before the scene would shift to his house. He would stand in the foyer while his father stood up on the stairs right beneath the portrait of the two of them at Emilie’s funeral. And he would have to listen over and over again to his father yelling at him about being too rebellious, not knowing when to keep his emotions in check, that dead people were dead and didn’t need flowers, blah blah blah. It didn’t even hurt anymore after eight years.

This time, this was what happened in the Ladybug Dream: Everything was the same until the moment of near-reveal of Ladybug’s face. The scene switched, but not to his father yelling at him. Instead, he was sitting in his office. Everything was the exact same, except for once difference: when he peered at Marinette’s personal desk in the far corner, he could see something folded up sitting on top of her chair. He couldn’t see much from behind the back of the chair, but it looked like some type of cloth. It was red. He couldn’t get up to go look—he was stuck to his chair.

Then the scene switched to the Agreste Manor, but again, not to his father yelling. He was in the foyer and the funeral portrait was gone. It was the old portrait of Adrien standing between his mother and father, all three of them smiling—the portrait that took up the space in the foyer before the funeral one, being the quickest replacement, knocked it out of its spot.  However, Emilie’s eyes were closed in the painting instead of open, and little clouds would float by his vision. He couldn’t make shapes out of any of the clouds, except for one, which was a fox with a flute. It floated over the portrait and concealed his dad’s face first before curling its tail around the rest of the painting.

And finally, maybe one of the most bizarre moments of the dream: when he turned from the portrait to look in the doorway, where Nathalie usually stood waiting, there was a black, human-sized blob instead.

He didn’t know what to make of the new scenes. It seemed like his dream had upgraded from a recollection of the past to a flat-out acid trip. All of the weird scene switches, clouds, and random animals were just normal, random dream things. He was no interpreter, but it meant nothing, right? But he just couldn’t understand why it would change, and so randomly at that, after being the exact same for 8 whole years. It couldn’t mean _nothing_ …

Adrien rubbed his eyes. He wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep now. “If the dream could change so many scenes,” he grumbled, “why couldn’t it have shown me her face?” He grasped for his phone on the bedside table and turned it on, squinting at the sudden light. He blinked in surprise when he saw his notifications bar.

Texts from Marinette? Adrien hastily unlocked his phone and went straight to the messaging app.

_M: Sorry, I won’t be able to come today. I’m staying with Alya in the hospital instead—a lot of stuff happened. I’ll tell you everything later. If anything happens with your stalker situation though, tell me ASAP. I’ll be over right away._

Worry pierced Adrien without warning. _Hospital?_ She said she was in the hospital with Alya. Did something happen? Adrien debated asking her before opting not to and going to the internet instead. There, he searched up ‘21st arrondissement Paris’ and all the local news headlines popped up on his screen. He skimmed across the first few and his stomach fell.

_‘Mystery Kidnapper Tries Again—Plan Foiled!’_

_‘Girl Reaches Her Friend Just In Time to Stop a Kidnapping!’_

_‘What is Paris’ Terrorizing Kidnapper’s Goal?’_

He clicked on the second one.

_‘Last night, a kidnapping attempt took place in the 21 st arrondissement, the place where a murder and another kidnapping attempt have taken place over the past week. Police suspect the person is the same one who committed the aforementioned crimes. Near a general neighborhood store, the kidnapper attacked Alya Cesaire, who was on her way back from the store with groceries. That was when Cesaire’s friend, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, happened upon them after looking for her friend and screamed. The scream drove the attacker away. _

_Current details are unknown. Updates will be posted.’_

He could feel a lump in his throat. Already he knew that the article was wrong. Marinette must have beaten the criminal to drive them away, at least gotten a hit in. But he also knew Alya was Marinette’s best friend; if the article didn’t say anything about Marinette catching the criminal, then… she must have been really worried about Alya to have let the kidnapper go. He thought back to when he’d gone to the Dupain-Cheng bakery with her and she’d seen Alya waiting inside. She’d laughed and went forward to hug her. Gotten teased. He recalled thinking that they were like sisters. How was she even holding up?

He looked at her text again— _I’ll tell you everything later—_ and set down his phone with a reluctant sigh after a few moments of contemplation. There was a time and place for asking after her, and unfortunately right now was neither of those things.

…

It was around 9 in the morning when things began to pick up their pace and change in the hospital room.

Marinette had been doing near nothing in the hospital room for four whole hours; when she needed to, she used the bathroom inside instead of the bigger one out in the hall, and kept an ear open while she was there for her three minute trips. She was extra jumpy and cautious, no thanks to witnessing the kidnapper break into the hospital and abduct Danielle first-hand, and would always examine a doctor’s or nurse’s ID cards before allowing them near Alya. Marinette knew that the staff was exasperated with her by now, but she hardly cared. She had to make sure that Alya was safe—do what she couldn’t do the night before. Even if it meant nearly dying of boredom.

She was sketching out designs for a variety of characters when the door clicked open yet again. She got up, ready to ask the nurse or doctor for their ID, but stopped when she saw who it was.

“Luka,” she said, surprised. “And Theo.” Marinette checked her phone and rubbed her eyes. “Geez, is it 9 already?”

The two detectives walked inside. “How long have you been here?”

“Um… a while,” Marinette said evasively. If she told them—specifically Luka—that she’d camped out overnight she’d be sent home. She had to see Alya wake up at least. Before they could pry, she asked, “Any reason two of you came this time?”

“We’re here to stand guard,” Luka explained, then added on with a grimace, “Two of us so that no mistakes are repeated.” He was clearly referring to Danielle’s hospital abduction and the mistake that he blamed himself for.

“And also to ask Mme. Cesaire questions when she wakes up,” Theo added quickly, casting a glance at Luka. “After all, two can probably do the job better than one.”

A long silence followed. The air got awkward and heavy as the three of them stood around not knowing what to say, so to escape it, Marinette sat down at Alya’s bedside again. “You might have to wait around a while. I’ve got no idea when she’ll wake up and—”

At that moment, a soft groan passed Alya’s lips. Marinette’s mouth clamped shut as she whipped her head towards her best friend. “Alya?” Another groan, louder this time. Alya’s lashes began fluttering as she tried to open her eyes.

“Ugh… my head…”

“ALYA!” Marinette lunged forward, ready to hug her best friend, but ground to a halt at the last second. _Probably not a good idea,_ she thought as her eyes caught on to the bandages rolled around her body under the gown.

“Just shout right in my ear, would you?” She muttered groggily. “It’ll drive my headache away for sure.”

Marinette settled for squeezing Alya’s hand; she had to caution herself and squeeze lightly so as to not add more injuries to the list. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes and her voice got thick as a grin split her face in half. “I’m so glad… you have no idea, Alya.”

“Where… is this?”

“Hospital,” Marinette replied. “Do you remember what happened?”

Alya had finally stopped squinting, her eyes finally adjusted to the light. She began to smile but it quickly dropped into a wince. “Ow, shit. Is my lip split?”

“A little at the edge,” Marinette sniffed, blotting her nose on her sleeve.

“Aw man,” Alya said, trying for a wry half-grin with the corner of her mouth that wasn’t busted. “My smile is my winning feature. What becomes of my face now?”

A laugh wrenched its way out of Marinette before she could stop it. Tears slipped out with it. “Shut up. Stop trying to make me laugh when you look like that!”

“Are you saying I’m ugly?”                                                                                                    

Luka watched the girls talk to each other, unaware that a small smile was on his face. Marinette looked so at ease for the first time in a long while; last he’d seen her, she was sobbing into his shirt. He knew that she’d probably stayed overnight, but even if he tried, he couldn’t make her go home to rest until she decided to. She was awfully stubborn like that.

The smile dropped from his face when he remembered what he and Theo went to the hospital for. No matter how much he didn’t want to make Marinette and Alya, the latter especially, relive the previous night… he had to. He would have to ask for details. He inwardly sighed and momentarily wondered if he could leave it all to Theo. He glanced over to his teammate picking at some dirt under his fingernails and immediately dismissed the thought. _Not in a million years._

…

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Marinette asked for the third time. “If you don’t feel all right you should rest—“

“No, Mom,” Alya said, rolling her eyes, “I’m fine. In fact, I’m already itching to get out of all these bandages.” Marinette huffed. “Besides,” Alya continued, her expression darkening, “I want to get it over with as soon as possible.”

“All right,” Luka said a bit cautiously. He’d brought up a chair to sit at Alya’s bedside next to Marinette while Theo stood standing. In his hand, he had his phone open to the recording app, and a notepad. He found that when he wrote details down by hand instead of typing them in an app, he understood them better. “We’ll go slowly. I’m just going to ask you some questions. If you don’t remember, you don’t have to answer, alright?” Alya hummed an affirmative, and Luka began.

He cleared his throat. “Firstly, I just want to confirm: You went to the store to pick up groceries, and on your way back you were attacked, right?” Alya nodded.

“How long did you spend in the store?”

Alya looked to the ceiling as she thought. “Hmm… ten-ish minutes?”

Luka scribbled it down on his notepad. “Was anyone else in the store?”

“Just the clerk. It was pretty late at night.”

“How late?”

“About 9:45, I think.”

The questions went on for a while until Luka finally asked what would have to be the biggest clue. “Did you see the attacker’s face? Any features at all?”

Luka bit his lip as he waited for Alya’s response. It was a stretch to ask that of Alya; the attack had been at night with bad lighting and the perpetrator wore a hood. But if they could get any details… any at all…

“That’s right,” Alya whispered, eyes wide. Everyone leaned in. “The person… didn’t have a face.”

There was a beat of silence. Then, _“What?”_

“No features,” Alya repeated, this time with more certainty. “I think it was a skin-colored mask. There were only holes cut out for the eyes and nostrils and mouth.” She shuddered. “It’s coming back to me now.”

Luka and Theo exchanged a wide-eyed glance. If the kidnapper wore a mask like that, then…

The cameras had been useless in the first place. The criminal was leading them by their noses.

“But,” Alya continued, causing both detectives to snap out of their trances, “I hit my bag of vegetables under their chin before trying to run away and the mask slid up a bit. I think the person has tanned skin, if that helps any.”

“Really?” Luka asked, not daring to hope. “Are you sure?”

Alya nodded her head with certainty. “Positive. I have good night vision.”

Luka wrote the tidbit down, feeling a bit of relief. They’d gotten something, at least. It was bad news that she wore a mask to cover her face—he didn’t think she would be so thorough, or rather, he’d hoped that much—but at least they knew that now, along with the fact that she had tanned skin. It was better than nothing.

“Although I have to wonder,” Theo asked, voice low enough so only Luka could hear, “How did the culprit know to avoid the hidden cameras?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because of YOU, Theo, you WALNUT!


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. Almost a week through with junior year and man... all I can say is, it's a good thing I was prepared knowing the BUTT TON of work that students get. Like, wtf?!
> 
> Anyways, because of that, I may have to go back to updating once a week. Sorry, I know waiting sucks, but my updates are catching up to how much I have written and I can't write regularly cause of school.
> 
> ANYWAYS anyways, this is sorta a filler chapter. No big events or stuff, just a lot of... other stuff. I hope yall still enjoy :) And side note, THANK YOU SO MUCH for commenting if you did. I love seeing them!!

 Luka and Theo were making to leave the room half an hour later when Luka caught Marinette’s eye and motioned to her. “Can we talk outside?”

Marinette blinked, surprised. “Uh…” She exchanged a glance with Alya, who made a shooing motion. And then sent Marinette an exaggerated wink. Marinette quickly turned back to Luka, hoping that he hadn’t seen Alya. “Alright.”

She followed Luka outside as Theo stood down the hall to do his turn of watching guard. “What is it?”

Luka leaned back against the wall. Marinette noticed for the first time how he had dark circles under his eyes. It made sense; with the kidnapper being on the loose, work must have piled up at the station. Everyone was tired from it; the police, probably, most of all.

“I think you should move out of the neighborhood,” Luka said bluntly. Marinette stood still and silent. He’d never really been one to beat around the bush, but—“What?”

“Only temporarily,” Luka added. “Just until we catch the damned…” He wiped a hand over his face. “Criminal. She’s seen you twice now, and a bodyguard isn’t enough to keep you safe. I think you’ll be safer if you stayed somewhere else for a while.”

Marinette gnawed on her lip as she turned the idea over in her mind. Logically, it made sense, and since Luka didn’t know she had super-strength to protect herself it was an obvious and easy solution. She would have to comply this time—if not to keep her ruse up, then to at least give Luka some peace of mind. But there were still some issues. “I don’t know where I’d stay, though. Places outside the neighborhood are expensive and I can’t be too far from work, either.”

“Is there anyone you can stay with?” Luka asked. If only he didn’t live in the 21st arrondissement, he’d offer his flat in a heartbeat. He’d also thought about suggesting his mom’s boat/restaurant/house…er, _abode,_ but that was also technically in the neighborhood—too close to the attacks.

Marinette fell silent. Who could she stay with? It’d be weird to suddenly contact old classmates out of nowhere and ask to live with them. All the people she was close with lived in her neighborhood. In fact, the only place she could think of where she’d been out of the neighborhood last was…

Her eyes widened. _Adrien’s house._

“What?” Luka asked, having noticed her expression. “Is there no one?”

“No, it’s not that,” Marinette hastily said, trying to come up with a response. Meanwhile she was antagonizing over the idea. _Should I stay with Adrien? Could I even ask that of him?_ Were they that close? She hadn’t known him for very long, but it almost felt like it’d been years what with all the secrets they’d somehow managed to share in their short time of knowing each other. Not to mention he poked fun at her all the time like old friends. She imagined herself asking him for the favor and him making some smug remark about her liking his house so much that she wanted to live in it. Ugh!

Then her brain spontaneously conjured up a scene where she asked him and he kindly agreed. He did, after all, have his nice moments. They’d wake up together… have meals together… go to work together… go home together…

_Like a couple…_

Marinette ripped herself out of her mind’s eye forcefully and slapped her cheeks. “NO!”

Luka recoiled. “Um… you alright there?”

Marinette could hardly hear him. Where normally she’d be painstakingly aware of how she must look to Luka (or how she reckoned she did, anyway), it hadn’t registered to Marinette that she was looking like a lunatic. Instead she was busy vigorously scolding the little troll inside her head that kept making the stupid images. _No,_ _Adrien is gay._ She found a little relief in that. _That’s right. It won’t be weird._ Having reached a resolution, however rocky, she turned to Luka with a deep breath.

“There is someone!” She said a little too loudly. She soldiered on. “Yes, I have someone. That I can go to, that is.”

“Really?” Luka looked past her weird behaviors, having seen weirder. “Who?”

“My boss,” Marinette said confidently with a nod. “He lives in a safe neighborhood.”

Luka stiffened. “He?”

“Yes.” Marinette was nodding more to herself than Luka, not noticing how he’d stilled. Now that she’d actually gone with it and mostly reassured herself, she was realizing what a good idea it was. Adrien’s house was outside of the 21st arrondissement yet still close to work—speaking of, she could just go with him! And also his house _was_ really nice, but… that was beside the point. Maybe while she was there she could even read more chapters from the ‘Book of Curses’ that he’d gotten to keep with him.

“Your boss is a man?” Luka asked, breaking Marinette out of her thoughts.

“Yeah,” she said. Noticing Luka’s furrowed eyebrows, she hastily added, “Don’t worry, though. His house is really big so it’s not like…” Her cheeks reddened. “I mean… you know. We’ll be far away most of the time probably. And also he’s gay.”

The tension in his shoulders seemed to release only a notch at that last point. “Are you sure?”

Marinette meant to say yes right away, but when she opened her mouth she hesitated.

_‘He seemed smitten!’_

_‘I’m able to tell these things, and I didn’t think he was gay.’_

_Plagg was totally the prankster type._

With a growl, Marinette shook her head to banish her doubts. None of that was true. “Yes! I’m sure.” Unfortunately, Luka still looked unconvinced—her moment of silence probably hadn’t helped—but he just sighed.

“As long as you’re away from danger… it’s your choice where to go.” The words seemed strained.

Marinette nodded. He seemed like he was done talking, so she turned to go. “I’m going to go back then—“

“Wait.” She stopped and turned back around. Luka was rummaging in his pocket and came up with a black item. When he gave it to her, Marinette saw that it was just a thick black band with a single button on it.

“It’s like an alert,” Luka explained before she could ask. “When you press the button the location will turn on and police will be on their way.”

Marinette blinked as she processed his words. The notion made her heart feel warm. With a smile, she slipped it onto her wrist and looked back up to Luka. “Thanks, Luka. I’ll keep this on.”

He looked at her for a few seconds before sending a small smile back to her, looking reluctant. “Yeah. Stay safe, Marinette.” She finally turned and left then, examining the wristband as she walked back to Alya’s hospital room. Her mind knew what had just transpired, but apparently her heart didn’t; she waited for the familiar, giddy rush to overtake her whenever something good happened with Luka. Her heart felt warm, happy, and content that he’d thought about her and gone to lengths for her safety, but it wasn’t bursting with excitement. The giddy rush didn’t come.

She reasoned with herself that it was because of her surroundings; there was no place to squeal in a hospital when your best friend was in wraps, literally. But there was a turning of her heart, as if it knew that something had changed.

She just wished that she knew, too.

…

It was one thing to figure it all out in her head… but asking Adrien was a completely different matter.

She was currently busy chanting a mantra in her head. _Adrien is gay. Adrien is gay. Adrien is gay._ If someone was reading her thoughts right now, then they’d probably be beyond confused as to why she was chanting such a thing, but it was her sole reprieve. It was the only thing that gave her guts enough to ask.

If he wasn’t gay… there’d be no way in hell that she would ever have been able to ask him. The universe had its small graces after all.

Her finger hovered over the call button. It’d been there for a whole seven minutes. She had yet to go back inside to join Alya; mostly because if her friend knew what she was trying to do, she’d tease her. And then all of Marinette’s conviction would come crashing back down.

_‘He seemed smitten!’_ Alya’s voice penetrated her head again and Marinette half-heartedly glared at Alya’s hospital room door.

Sucking in a deep breath, she pressed down onto the button before the seven minutes could prolong into eight, or nine, or twenty. Regret immediately filtered through her being but she forced the phone up to her ear. She began pacing. _Better get it over with than face problems later._

He picked up on the third ring. Marinette opened her mouth to eke out an awkward greeting (she did preplan a speech of sorts, but it had flown out of her mind already), but Adrien quickly beat her to it with his own type of greeting. “ _Are you alright?”_

Marinette blinked, taken aback. It was a line he’d said to her multiple times before, but the timing never failed to catch her off guard. She closed her mouth, opened it, did that a few more times before stuttering back, “U-um… yes?”

_“It’s just—I mean, I saw the news,”_ he continued haltingly. _“Of what happened. Is Alya alright?”_

Marinette relaxed slightly and paused in her pacing. “Yes, she’s doing fine. She’s already complaining about the hospital food.” Adrien’s chuckle carried over the line.

_“The news said you screamed, but… that probably wasn’t it, right?”_

“Yeah.” It was just like Adrien to piece it together easily like that. “I think I kicked the kidnapper away, but…” She sighed and slumped against the wall. “I was stupid. I should have caught her, but instead I freaked out.”

_“Stop that,”_ Adrien interrupted. _“You already saved Alya. No self-deprecating.”_

She couldn’t help but smile. It felt like she’d known him for years somehow, and he her. She remembered what she’d called him for and her smile quickly faded as she nervously swallowed. “Um… listen. I sorta need to ask a favor of you.”

_“Shoot.”_

She closed her eyes and licked her dry lips. “Today Luka came by for detective questioning. He pulled me aside later and said I was more in danger now, since the kidnapper saw my face twice.” He was silent, so she continued. “Um, so Luka said that I should move out of the neighborhood and I sorta said yes on a whim because I didn’t want to tell him I had super-strength to protect myself with and so I kinda sorta said I could manage—“ Marinette stopped, heaving for breaths. “… and now I don’t have anybody but you…so…yeah.”

He was still silent. It was quiet for nearly ten seconds; Marinette took the phone off her ear to check if they’d somehow broken connection. Nope, the call was still going—and it was going on long. She tentatively put the phone back to her ear. “Adrien?”

He croaked out a response four ticking seconds later. _“…why can’t you tell him about your strength?”_

“B-because!” Marinette sputtered. “I—he doesn’t know and we’ve known each other forever. It’d be weird.”

The same ticking silence again. _“Does Luka know you’d be staying with me?”_

“Yes,” Marinette replied, nodding even though she was on the phone. “I told him.”

_“Alright then.”_ She startled at his sudden acceptance. That was all it took? _“I’m sure I could manage to make some room for you.”_

She wanted to slide down to the ground in relief despite his teasing. He’d said yes. And it hadn’t been _horribly_ awkward to ask! She mustered as much appreciation into her voice as she could, which wasn’t very hard all things considered. “Thank you _so_ much for this. It’ll only be a temporary thing until the police catch her.”

He sniffed. “ _Knowing the police, it’ll be a while still.”_ She rolled her eyes. At least he wasn’t being odd about it—he was back to his normal self already. _“Will you be back to work tomorrow?”_

Marinette glanced back in Alya’s room through the little window in the door. She sort of felt like a mother hen watching over her—and Alya had mentioned as much too. Besides, with two officers on guard at all times, and everyone on edge since the first hospital-kidnapping… it was a near zero-percentage chance that Alya was in danger. Marinette was reluctant, but she knew if she stayed any longer than the day Alya might just drag her back home herself, injured or not.

“Yeah. I think I can bring my things tonight to your house.”

_“Alright. See you then.”_

“Bye.” She took the phone off her ear and disconnected. That had gone a lot better than expected. She didn’t word vomit once! As long as she didn’t say anything weird while she had to stay with him, nothing would become painfully awkward.

…

Marinette made it back to the bakery around lunchtime. The hour was especially evident inside the bakery, which was bustling and busy from the lunch rush. However, when she stepped inside and walked over to the register her mom was still quick in asking, “How’s Alya doing?”

“She woke up this morning and is well enough to be back to her usual self,” Marinette reported with a smile. She scratched at her head and winced, feeling a knot in her fingers. Brushing her hair after falling asleep against a chair would be painful. She also had to get out of her clothes and into new ones before…

…well, before going to Adrien’s house. The notion still made her insides turn in a strange way, but she had to remind herself it was for a logical reason. She also had to tell her parents.

She’d already jumped the hurdle of asking Adrien, but she felt like telling her parents was an even _bigger_ obstacle. It wasn’t like they could stop her, nor would they after she’d tell them that it was Luka’s idea, but she could already imagine her mom gasping about how she _knew_ the two of them were growing closer, and her dad squinting surreptitiously, and… _urgh._ But she had to get it over with.

“Err… can I talk to you and dad after lunch?”

Sabine managed to shoot Marinette a questioning glance while also ringing up a customer and handing them change. “What happened?”

“Nothing _happened,_ per se…” Marinette sighed. “I’ll tell you afterwards.” She then trudged up to her room and her anxiety proceeded to spike. _I really, really don’t want to do this._ She proceeded to shower and change into new clothes. By the time she was done half an hour later, the lunch rush was dying down.

“Alright Marinette,” she psyched herself up in the mirror. “Nothing scary about this. They’re your parents. Just your parents. Easy peasy…” Images of her parents shouting over each other in a slew of questions and/or overeager statements invaded her mind. She gulped. “Easy as pie.”

She loitered in front of the mirror for a few more minutes, trying to put it off, before finally giving in and nearly running back down the stairs. _Like a bandaid. Rip it off like a bandaid. Nice and quick._

Her parents were waiting for her in the back room while a different employee took over the register. Her dad was the first one to speak up. “What is it, sweetie?”

Marinette steeled herself— _Rip it off like a bandaid!—_ before blurting, “I HAVE TO GO LIVE WITH ADRIEN!”

Mortifying silence followed her claim as she slapped a hand over her mouth. _NOT LIKE THAT!_

“I-I mean,” she sputtered, “Luka said since the kidnapper saw my face twice that I should live somewhere outside the neighborhood and its really expensive everywhere, y’know, that’s Paris so I couldn’t think of anyone but Adrien and—“

Her mom giggled as predicted, cutting her rambling off. “Ah, no need for the excuses, Marinette.” She winked exaggeratedly. “I was also a young woman once.”

“It’s not like that! Listen, he’s the only one living outside and he also—“

“I can help you pack,” Sabine said, eyes shining. “Would you want some cute clothes?”

“MOM! It’s not—“

“With that…that…CASANOVA?!” Her dad boomed, effectively cutting them both off. Marinette gawked at her dad, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as he sputtered on, “I’ve seen the way he smiles! It’s a trap, Marinette!”

“PAPA!” Marinette cried, finally worn out. When she won the golden silence of her parents, she continued through gritted teeth, “He is _not_ a Casanova. But that’s beside the point. _Because,”_ she stressed when he opened his mouth, “He is _gay.”_

Tom closed his mouth, a look of surprise on his face. Her mom began to lean in to whisper. “I don’t think he’s—“

“And don’t listen to what Mom says,” Marinette said drily. “He _is._ I’m sure.” Mostly sure, anyways. Not that she’d say that to her dad. “As I was saying, Luka said that I need to move out of the neighborhood to be safe. There’s no affordable place to go, and Adrien’s house is the only option. It’s really big so there’s not going to be a problem with making room.”

Tom looked thoughtful, but incredibly reluctant. After a few long moments, he asked, “To be safe?”

“Yes. Luka said since the kidnapper saw my face twice now, I should move away temporarily.” She studied her dad’s face as he stayed silent. “It’s only for a short while.”

He gave in. “As long as you’re safe…” He turned an eye on her and raised a finger up. “But the second you feel something weird—you take his neck and use your super strength to—“

“I’m not going to snap anyone’s neck,” Marinette sighed. “And Adrien wouldn’t do something weird either. I promise it’ll be fine, Papa.” He still looked reluctant, so Marinette stepped in with a hug to seal the deal. After a second, he hugged her back.

“I know you will,” he muttered against the top of her head. “I still worry though.”

Marinette leaned into her father’s embrace that enveloped her and smelled of warm, fresh bread. Even though she was more capable of protecting herself than he was, he still worried. She supposed that was what fathers did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now wouldn't it suck if the first scene next chapter was of a shitty father? LMAO


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is gonna be the last update before the weekly ones start (I did this so I can update on Sundays instead of Thursdays).

Nathalie picked up the receiver ringing at her desk. She’d been prepared to hear Gabriel’s voice on the other end—only he could call her from the receiver, after all—but she hadn’t been prepared for the sheer volume of his voice. And the desperation and anger within.

_“THE BOOK IS GONE!”_

She quickly jerked the phone back from her ear before placing it back, heart pounding in a mixture of surprise, panic, and a little bit of fear. “What? What do you mean?”

“ _The book in my safe,”_ his voice growled from the other end, anger barely contained. For a man usually so composed, it was unnerving to hear the raw emotion in his voice. _“It. Is. Gone.”_

Nathalie couldn’t think of anything appropriate to say that wouldn’t come off as dumb. “You didn’t leave it in your room or someplace else?”

_“I never do that,”_ he snapped. _“It never goes past the safe. And only I know the safe’s passcode.”_

“I…” Nathalie shook her head. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m at a loss.”

_“Nathalie, do you know what this means?”_

“I—no?”

_“Other than me, you are the only person to know about the safe.”_ She blinked in confusion. When she didn’t respond, he said, _“You understand that you could be the only possible contender.”_

The implications of what he was saying dawned on her with a startling, dreadful clarity. He thought it was _her._ “I-I would never do such a thing!” Nathalie protested. Her composed mask momentarily cracked. She breathed in deep to restore it.

How could he think that? All the things she did for him—it was out of more than just obligation. More than just the fact that given how much she’d seen, she _had_ to stay.

Well, it wasn’t like she blamed Gabriel for not knowing the true extent of her feelings. She hardly let it pass. But still—did she come across as disloyal?

His next words jarred her out of her thoughts. _“I know, which is why you_ must _find out what happened to it. Or else there would only be one possible solution left.”_ With that, Gabriel clicked the line shut. His half-threat hung in the air long after the silence that came. Nathalie dropped the receiver and leaned back in her chair, hands pressed to her temples. Soon her hands slid under her glasses and pressed against her eyelids so all she could see was black.

If she didn’t solve the problem, Gabriel would assume _she_ was the cause of the missing book—loyal or not. She had to do it. She couldn’t mess up.

_Think,_ she ordered herself, pressing into her eyelids a bit harder. Luckily, she wasn’t used to messing up. As long as she thought it through…this problem would be no different from the others. _He found the book missing today. Gabriel usually checks in on it two or three times a week. That must mean that whatever happened to it happened two or three days ago._ She racked her mind. _What happened two or three days ago?_

Nothing stood out except that dinner three days ago with the Bourgeois family.

The dinner that Adrien unexpectedly showed up to—with an even more unexpected guest with him.

She opened her eyes and let the white light fuzzing the edges of her vision sharpen out, blinking. Slid the glasses back over her eyes.

She’d found both of them in front of Emilie’s portrait after the dinner failed. His girlfriend—Marinette, she recalled—had suddenly gotten a stomachache. And Adrien quickly escorted her out.

Nathalie’s fingers twitched. Usually she would be typing; when she was trying to work out a problem, she would most definitely type it down somewhere—laptop, desktop, tablet, anything. But this wasn’t something she could afford to type onto a file that could, with the tiniest fraction of possibilities, be seen by someone or accidentally get sent.

Gabriel _said_ that only he knew the safe’s passcode; but what if Adrien knew too? His sudden appearance at the dinner could have had an ulterior motive. It was a far shot to call, one that Nathalie didn’t even have enough evidence to back, but it was all she had. She couldn’t think of any other reason why, or _how,_ the book could have disappeared.

She forced her fingers to still. Opening up a drawer in her desk, she reached to the very back and pulled out a phone. Not the personal touchscreen device currently tucked away in her pocket, but a flip-phone.

She made a call.

…

“That’s…” Adrien blinked at Marinette’s box of belongings. _Box,_ as in singular. Sure, it was a sizeable box—it looked to be bigger than the average crate and hid nearly all of Marinette’s torso—but for someone staying an indefinite amount of time at someone else’s house, it looked a little on the small side. “Less than I thought it would be.”

Marinette shook her head at him from the doorstep. “No, my mom packed this box. She’s the master of fitting things into small spaces.” Adrien raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, so she held it out to him. “You hold it.”

It was, of course, a bad idea for him to agree. The second she released the box into his hands, his whole body sagged down with its weight. He would have fallen onto his knees with the box crushing his fingers if Marinette hadn’t deftly plucked it out of his grasp right in time.

“Never underestimate my mother’s packing capabilities,” she said before marching past him into the house. Adrien wheezed as he closed the door behind her, trying to rub out the indents that the edge of the box had left on his fingers.

They’d agreed for her to come in after dinnertime. Night had fallen outside, and Tom had insisted on driving Marinette to her destination when she could have just taken a cab. Cheaper, he said, but she knew that wasn’t all there was to it. While he drove, he ranted on about safety and made her promise to a bunch of things. With the way he’d talked, one would think that she was moving out of the country instead of out of the neighborhood temporarily. _Lock your door when you go to sleep. Eat good food and don’t just order takeout. Visit us when you can. Make sure to aim for the throat if the situation calls for it._ She’d promised to everything but the last one and kissed her dad’s cheek before exiting the truck with the bakery logo printed on the side.

And now she was here.

“Your room is down that hall,” Adrien said as he caught up to her, warily eyeing the box that she held in her hands with ease. He pointed to the hall in question. “The door should be open. Mine is the other way—“ Marinette noticed him gesture in the opposite direction with a feeling of relief. “—so…yeah.” He petered off and rubbed the back of his head. Marinette noticed he did that a lot.

“Okay,” Marinette nodded, trying not to look nervous. She reminded herself that it was temporary _. Nothing is weird. Nothing is weird._ “What about the bathroom?”

“There’s one in your room,” Adrien said. “So… I’ll leave you to unpacking that witchcrafty box.”

Marinette’s lips quirked up in a smile, his quip effectively working to lighten the mood. “Not witchcraft, just technique.”

“It shouldn’t be physically possible to make a box that size _that_ heavy with items.” He made a show of squinting at the box before turning to go to his room. He looked back once and called out, “Good night.”

“Good night.” A few seconds later, she heard the door to his room close. She looked around the large, modern living room lit up with various lights and decorated with contemporary furniture and art. It was just the living room, yet it felt bigger than a normal apartment.

“How does he live in such a huge house all by himself?” She muttered as she made her way to the bedroom. In the hall she passed numerous other closed doors before she got to the one door that was open at the far end. She poked her head inside before walking in all the way.

Spacious and sparse. There was a bed adorned with plush pillows and comforters, a dresser table with a lamp on it, and a coffee table with two chairs a few paces away. A simple chandelier hung above the queen bed. It was probably twice the size of her room back at home and one wall was completely made up of windows, where she could see what looked like a garden before a wall that was probably the one to separate Adrien’s house from his neighbor’s.  On the wall adjacent to the one with windows, there were two doors slightly ajar; it was a closet. A big one.

It was pretty much the opposite of her room back home. Looking at the neutral-painted walls and all too chic furniture made her feel a bit empty inside, but it was fine. She’d only be sleeping here anyways. When she looked to the side, she found the door to the bathroom, which was also large and clean.

“Well, that’s good,” Marinette murmured to herself as she placed the box onto the bed. The mattress immediately sank beneath its weight. She opened up the lid and began unpacking things into the closet. It ended up taking a whole hour and most of the closet got filled up—there really was _that much_ stuff that Sabine had managed to cram in—and by the end Marinette was exhausted. She groggily changed into her pajamas and brushed her teeth. She was ready to hit the bed and pass out, but her glance skittered to the bedroom door.

_“Promise me you’ll at least lock your bedroom door,”_ Tom had said gruffly.

Well. It was just her dad being overly worried like always, but… Marinette didn’t break promises. She locked the door before collapsing onto the plush bed, falling into a deep sleep the second her head hit the pillow.

…

A long, lavish red gown. A weathered stone balcony. An ink blue sky filled with diamond stars. Two figures twirled on the balcony to _What is a Youth,_ which was somehow filling the air with its notes. Marinette didn’t really know how. All she knew was that she and her Romeo were in fair Verona, dancing the night away. Her Romeo…

They paused in their dance, hands clasped together and pulled in close. Glittering green eyes stared down into hers through a black cat mask. Marinette gazed back for a few long moments before raising a hand to slip off the mask. She shifted forward.

A pained yowl suddenly erupted from Romeo’s mouth. He tried to pull away from her and ended up falling on his butt instead. Marinette looked down with horror to see that she’d accidentally stepped on his toe. And anchored him to the ground. She hurriedly tore her foot away and Romeo wasted no time in scrabbling to his knees and crawling away.

“Romeo! Romeo!” Marinette cried, watching him crawl. He was crawling really slowly— she could catch up to him in two steps, probably—but she settled on extending a hand and dramatically crying, “Romeo! Wherefore art thou going away?!”

_“ROMEOOOOOOOOOOOO!”_

Marinette’s eyes flew open and she surged forward in her bed with a gasp, breathing heavily. Her heart pounded in her chest as her brain replayed every moment of that vivid _nightmare_ in HD. Usually she forgot dreams a second after waking up—a minute if she was lucky—but unfortunately, _this_ dream was one that would stay. She could remember every detail, from the twinkle of the stars to the velvety texture of the gown.

“What the hell,” she whispered, eyes wide with fright. She had been _Juliet,_ and her mystery Romeo had scrambled away from her after she broke his toes. _Shudder._ She hadn’t even known her brain could produce something like that.

 She shook her head vigorously. “Oh, my God. I need a glass of water.” She raised a hand to her head before swinging her legs over the edge and getting out of bed. She quietly unlocked the door and slipped through the house as best and as stealthily as she could. She didn’t want to accidentally wake up Adrien. It was dark, but she could see well enough since his house had lots of windows that let in the moonlight.

“Definitely ice cold water,” she muttered, shuddering again as she recalled dream-Marinette wailing _‘_ Romeo’. _That is SO not like me!_ She fumbled with the fridge for a bit before filling up her glass. She watched as the stream of water filled her cup up, gurgling and thumping.

Wait. Thumping? Water wasn’t supposed to thump.

She leaned in closer to the machine. Only gurgling. So why did she hear a thump—

A pinprick of black, darker than her surroundings, flitted into her peripheral. Marinette quickly turned and was met with the view of a silhouette in black with a pan raised above their head; the pan came rushing down in a split second.

Marinette flinched and threw out a fist blindly, running more on gut instinct than anything else. Her fist met a hard surface. After two seconds of silence and no impact to her head, she cracked an eye open.

Her fist had molded into the pan. The person who’d broken in was now more than just a black silhouette; the whites of their eyes stood out as they gawked at the mutated pan. Marinette let out a breath in relief before hardening her features and jerking her fist, still against the pan. It slammed back against the intruder’s face with a loud crack; their eyes rolled back before they fell into a heap on the kitchen floor. Loudly.

A second later, she heard what sounded like a tussle coming from somewhere else in the house. Her eyes widened as she remembered—‘ _Mine is the other way’—_ Adrien’s room.

She hurried down the other hall, following the noise, and broke into Adrien’s room. She could see two figures on Adrien’s bed, one dressed in all black similar to the one she’d knocked out in the kitchen. She promptly knocked her fist against the back of the second intruder’s head, who was attempting to suffocate Adrien with a pillow. He, too, collapsed in a heap. Right on top of Adrien.

Marinette pulled the intruder’s body off of Adrien before his muffled shouts got much louder. He lay on the bed, eyes wide and frenzied, chest heaving.

 Suddenly, he sneezed. And sneezed.

 Marinette leaned back and noticed a discarded knife lying on the ground next to his bed.

“Um…do I want to ask?” She said uncertainly. Adrien got a hold on his breathing and warily sat up.

“When I woke up he had a knife against my throat,” he explained. “But he got distracted for a second by a loud noise outside, so I disarmed him.” _The loud noise outside,_ Marinette realized. _From the guy that I just knocked out._

Marinette glanced at the stranger laying face-down on the bed and prodded at him to turn him onto his back. When his body flopped around, she gasped. “Hey, this is the guy who stabbed Ivan!”

Adrien’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?”

“He’s the same one I saw on that stage,” Marinette reaffirmed. She always did have an eye for little details. Even though both men had their faces nose-down concealed by a black mask, she could say with certainty that the broad cheekbones and wispy eyebrows were the same. “The other guy outside, he looks familiar, but I can’t remember from where.”

“It’s my stalker,” Adrien realized. “They sent two men to break in. I don’t think they were expecting me to have extra help.” He kept saying _my stalker_ and _they,_ but in his head he was replacing those words with _my father_ and _he._ He practically knew already that it was his dad, but now he’d actually caught someone who’d been hired to help. At the very least, he could dig information out of them to confirm the identity of the person behind months of harassment… even if he already had a pretty solid idea. “Let’s tie them up.”

 Marinette nodded and dragged the man off of the bed by the ankle, letting his body drag on the floor behind her as she walked as if it were some sort of murder scene in a movie. Adrien took a second to stare at the bizarre sight in his bedroom before getting up and following Marinette.

They retrieved some rope from the garage and tied the two men together, back to back, hands and feet bound. Adrien ended up tying the knots because Marinette didn’t know how and could only do the ropes tight enough to cut off circulation. Possibly tight enough to suffocate. Useful, but they weren’t trying to _kill_ the men.

“Do you think they’ll wake up?” Marinette asked. She’d taken both of their masks off. The one that she’d hit with a pan had an exceptionally large bruise blooming across his face and a bloody nose. The one from Adrien’s bedroom had a comically large bump on the back of his head. “I may have a hit a…tiny bit too hard.”

“Sure, if a tiny bit is a ton’s worth of force,” Adrien muttered. He pretended not to notice Marinette’s glower. “But they’ll live, and that’s enough. I don’t appreciate trespassers anyways.” He squatted down and examined the two men, soundly unconscious. When he got too close, he wrinkled his nose and held a finger underneath as if to stop himself from sneezing. “How did they get in so quietly?”

Marinette couldn’t help but wonder the same thing. No windows were broken, and Adrien’s house required a fingerprint to enter, or a passcode as backup. It didn’t make sense as to how they could have gotten in.

Half an hour had passed since the initial break-in. As they both contemplated how to go about the situation, a muted buzzing noise filled the air between them. Adrien and Marinette looked to each other before realizing it was coming from one of the men’s prone forms. They quickly searched both of them and Adrien came up with a cellphone (with a sneeze). He accepted the call before it could stop buzzing and put it to his ear.

“Did you get it done? _CRROOO!”_ Adrien jumped and yanked the phone away from his ear, completely caught off guard with the sudden… battle cry? He cautiously put the phone back to his ear as the peculiar man continued. “I hope you’ve taken care of Adrien Agreste by now. It’s already been half an hour, CRROOO! You’ve been given plenty of time.”

Adrien tried to keep his face neutral at the random croo-ing that punctuated the strange man’s sentences. “Perhaps leave him in some destitute area with an ominous message about the stockholders meeting tomorrow. It should lead him to go to the meeting in fright right away, I would presume. CRROOO.”

Adrien decided to finally speak up. “I don’t think so.” He heard all motion on the other side of the line still. “How about I strike you a deal? I won’t take this to the police if you tell me who’s behind this harassment. Who hired you.”

The line immediately cut off the second he finished speaking. Adrien lowered the phone from his ear and stared at the device in his hands. Marinette gazed at him, having sat through the whole conversation without knowing what was going on.

“What happened?”

“He hung up,” Adrien said. “He was talking about scaring me into going to the stockholder’s meeting tomorrow.”

“There’s a stockholder’s meeting tomorrow?”

“Yeah, although I usually skip,” Adrien admitted. “I guess my stalker wanted me to go so they could officially hand over the stocks to me.” Almost as an afterthought, he added on, “Like he’s been trying to for four years.”

Marinette leaned back on her heels. “You’re thinking of going tomorrow to expose your stalker problem, right?”

Adrien startled. “How did you know?”

Marinette cast a small smile at him. “It just seems like something you’d do.”

_Really?_ If Adrien were braver, he’d have asked, _You know me well enough to say that?_ He realized it would have been a stupid question anyways. If there weren’t years between them to bring them closer, then there were certainly experiences. He knew Marinette better than… well, a lot of people. And she knew him.

The thought made him somehow pleased. He shook himself out of it as Marinette continued, “I can stay here tomorrow to watch over these two. We can give the person”—she gestured to the phone Adrien still held—“who hung up a day to come out, and if they don’t, then we’ll take it to the police.” Marinette narrowed her eyes when Adrien opened his mouth. “ _Police._ No buts.”

Adrien shut his mouth and squinted back at her. “Fine. Don’t accidentally hurt these guys while I’m gone, or you might get explosive diarrhea.”

Marinette’s face immediately burned. “Hey!” She yelled indignantly. “I told you it’s a serious thing!”

He held up his hands as if to surrender, but his expression said otherwise. “I never said it wasn’t.”

“Jerk,” she huffed. Adrien laughed and she joined in despite herself.

There he was, sitting on the floor of his kitchen sometime in the middle of the night with two thugs and a supernaturally strong girl to keep him company. A month ago, he’d have never imagined this scenario.

A month ago, he’d have never been this happy. He didn’t know why—he was going to go to a Gabriel stockholders meeting tomorrow; two men had tried to threaten him in his own home; his stalker had elevated their game to new heights. None of those were things to be happy about, but he still felt stupidly light and smiley.

Marinette examined the man with a bloody nose, face scrunching up. “I swear he’s familiar.” She tilted her head. A few moments later, she suddenly straightened with a snap of her fingers.

“He’s one of the guys from the construction site!” She exclaimed. “With the bus driver and schoolkids. Remember?”

Of course he remembered. How could he forget? It was the first time he’d seen Marinette, hauling the men around nonchalantly.

Out loud, though, he said, “Yeah, I think I remember.” He wrinkled his nose again, feeling the urge to sneeze. “I think I’m allergic to them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm... are we close?


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOOD NEWS AND BAD NEWS!
> 
> Good news: This chapter is LOOOOOOONG. Over 5,000 words. I was going to split it into 2, but then it wouldn't be very progressive and my readers would have to wait a whole nother week for any progression, and I hate when it happens to me, so I didn't make it happen to you all. You're welcome :)
> 
> BAD NEWS: My updates have officially caught up with how much I had written. I didn't really see this coming... but then again, school. However, I will hopefully have time to write one chapter per week :) Keep supporting me guys!
> 
> Enjoy!

When Adrien woke up, muted light was coming in slats through the window. The air was slightly chilly. The faint noise of birds chirping met his ears, indicating that it was early morning.

Also, he was lying on the kitchen ground.

He blinked, disoriented, before pushing off the cold kitchen tile with a grimace. Half of his body was cramped. He glanced over and almost jumped back at the sight of the two thugs tied up before remembering what had happened in the middle of the night. That was when pieces began clicking for him. He glanced over and, surely enough, Marinette was sprawled out across the floor, deeply asleep. Her mouth was open and a little bit of dried drool made a trail from the corner of her mouth.

Adrien snorted out a laugh before he could stop himself. Without thinking, he leaned forward and pushed some hair out of her face. “How do you make the floor look so comfortable…?” Realizing himself, he yanked his hand back and quickly got up off the floor. Then, after a moment’s thought of consideration, he kneeled down and gingerly poked at her cheek.

“Marinette?” She didn’t stir. “Are you there, like, at all?” She let out a snore and readjusted her position. Adrien sighed. “You should probably get up off the floor.”

She didn’t budge. He fell silent in thought once again before cautiously sliding his arms beneath her—one under her legs, one behind her back—and standing up. He went up with ease. She was light; it wasn’t really surprising considering her petite size, but knowing her super strength made things a little different. When she was sleeping like this, it was easy to forget that she had super strength at all.

He walked to the living room and deposited her on the couch, rearranging her limbs so none of them hung off the side, and spread a throw over her before straightening with a satisfied nod. There, now she looked more comfortable. A content smile spread over Marinette’s face in her sleep.

He shook his head, small smile pasted on his face as well. “Geez.” He looked up to check the time on the clock. _Seven thirty._ The stockholders meeting was in an hour.

At that moment, he heard the distant, muted noise of his alarm clock going off. He rubbed his sore shoulder and headed inside to shut it off and start getting ready. Before changing, he went and got Marinette’s phone from her room and put it next to her so she’d wake up on time for their plan.

_No time lost._

...

A long, sleek wooden table ran along the length of a large conference room. The room was on the uppermost floor of one of Gabriel’s main buildings, and one wall was made completely of glass, so that the Parisian skyline and Eiffel Tower in the distance were visible. The interior of the room was white and slate grey; benches curved around the table in amphitheater-style, providing anyone seated there a view of the center of the room. Behind the table, a large screen hung down from the ceiling, a screen which currently displayed Gabriel’s logo. The table was just for show, though; no seats were around it. Everyone sat at the amphitheater benches—even Gabriel. Granted, his seat was separate at the very front. Even Nathalie had to sit behind him.

This was a stockholder’s meeting. Men, and a few women, sat in the benches as they waited for the meeting to commence. The stockholders were dressed in black suits that contrasted against the white interior of the conference room. There was light chatter in the room as the time dragged on. They were all used to delays by now, because they would always wait for a person to show up, who inevitably never did, before commencing.

Adrien Agreste.

The chatter in the air was a little less irritable than other days’, though, as people gossiped about what the absence of Audrey Bourgeois in the room could possibly mean. Nobody dared to ask the man sitting in the front of the room, though, nor his almost-equally intimidating secretary.

Soon enough, though, enough time passed that Audrey’s absence was of little interest and the usual irritated remarks started up again, just loud enough to float to the front of the room.

“This is common routine by now,” Horace Abel, one of the senior and more bold of the group, muttered. “Although we know the young Agreste never shows up. Personally, I wouldn’t care to give a rebellious son any chances.”

“Yes,” Reinald Firmin, Horace’s close buddy, agreed. “If he’s not interested, let him fail and then come back begging for mercy. _That’ll_ teach him a lesson.”

Gabriel set one hand down on the tabletop. Loudly. The conversing men snapped into silence. Gabriel began to turn, but the men were spared from any cold remarks by the moderator of the meeting, seated at the far right, clearing his throat.

“It is officially ten minutes past 8:30, which was the set time for the stockholders meeting to take place,” he announced. “Adrien Agreste will not be attending.”

The room broke into an outrage, despite such a thing happening nearly every meeting. This time, comments about Adrien and his unworthiness were ammo for more annoyance. The men previously silenced by Gabriel started up again with a vengeance, this time egging on more people to agree.

“It is always like this. We arrive early and then wait an extra ten minutes for a careless freelancer!”

“Half of this company’s stocks shouldn’t go to some impudent boy.”

“Ridiculous, isn’t it? When he comes crawling back again he should simply be locked out.”

“An established founding like Gabriel is no place for people like him, son or not.”

Gabriel began to turn around and silence the room with barbed words, but stopped when the door to the room opened. People paused and craned their heads to see who would arrive so unfashionably late. A sudden hush fell over the entire room as they saw the newcomer. It seemed like everyone had stilled, even stopped breathing.

In strode Adrien, a tablet under one hand, the other in his pant pocket. He oozed confidence as he stepped his way down to the long table, pretending not to notice how all eyes followed him. At the front of the room, Gabriel had laced his fingers under his chin and regarded Adrien’s presence analytically instead of with surprise like one would think. After all, Adrien hadn’t been seen with this group in over four years.

And especially not like this. Dark dress shirt and pants, tie, blazer, all pressed to crisp perfection. His hair was combed back neatly, showing his full face, but his emotions were carefully guarded behind a steely expression. This man was the one that late-teenaged Adrien tried to be like all the time, and failed at.

Adrien reached his destination and set the tablet down perfectly perpendicular to the table. His head rose and he swept his eyes over his audience. They didn’t pass over his father.

“I apologize for my tardiness,” he said, voice controlled and calm. “And I sincerely thank you all for deciding not to lock me out.” Horace and Reinald’s faces took on interesting, plummish hues. “I had some _unexpected guests.”_

He scanned for any reactions before opening up the tablet and connecting to the large screen. Then, he video called Marinette’s contact.

As he’d expected, she picked up after three rings. Her face filled up the screen, face washed and hair tied back, and he had to resist smirking. The sound of rustling in the room proved that people were confused, maybe even getting uneasy.

One person would be getting uneasy, anyways. Adrien fought against the itching urge to look back and check his father’s expression. _Too obvious._ Instead, with a light tone of voice, he asked, “Would you mind showing everyone our guests, Marinette?”

“Of course.” On screen, she fumbled slightly with the camera as she turned it around. Gasps filled up the room as the image of the two tied-up men, bruised and dressed in all black, filled up the large screen. They were blinking, now, and regaining consciousness, but clearly not back to their full senses yet.

“For the past two months, someone has been harassing me,” Adrien announced, his voice turning hard. “I’m talking digital threats, stalking—eventually stabbing a man accompanying me and last night, this. A hired break-in.” He let a pause break his sentence for one second before continuing, “My stalker is sitting in this room right now.”

 He swept his gaze over the room again, this time with a more cutting glare, as numerous people pulled at their collars and stared wide-eyed. He let his gaze linger on Horace and Reinald long enough that they began to look panicked, as if they were suspects. “Unfortunately, as my previous absences have made clear, I have no intention to take over this company,” he said. Finally he let his gaze travel to his father. A muscle in Gabriel’s jaw was popping. “But these attacks against me can give Gabriel, as a company, a gangster-affiliated type of image. It’s detrimental. I will be at the next meeting, and I will have uncovered the identity of my stalker by then. Please don’t miss it.” He picked up the tablet again and told Marinette “That will be all, thank you” before ending the call and disconnecting from the large screen.

Hushed conversation started up again, this time tense with buzzing energy. Panic, that was what it was. In a room full of people with so much to lose, finger-pointing was prone. People were so scared that they weren’t even discussing the scandal of a woman, Marinette, being in his house like they otherwise would have. That spoke volumes.

Adrien focused all his attention on Gabriel as he began exiting the room. His father looked furious. It could have been for any number of reasons: for having his meeting interrupted and derailed? For Adrien showing an act of defiance once again? For the act of defiance being in front of numerous important people, so Gabriel was not allowed to retaliate?

Or because Adrien had foiled his plan? Surely his stalker wouldn’t be expecting to find the two men he’d hired to send Adrien running to the meeting out of fear to be exposed for all to see.

Everything was set up. Now all Adrien had to do was wait. Which was good… because Adrien was better at the waiting part than the acting part. The second he was outside the room, he slumped against the wall with a relieved sigh.

_How nerve-wracking._

…

Adrien was an hour into work at his office (“work” meaning that he was just screwing around on his monitor unable to focus) when Plagg arrived at the door. To his credit, the secretary didn’t bat an eye at Adrien’s unusual appearance unlike most employees had when they’d seen him walk in an hour ago, and even now, Plagg acted like nothing was different.  Adrien was appreciative for that. Being called the “Big Boss” felt _so_ weird.

“There’s someone who says he has to have a meeting with you in person,” Plagg told him, hands dug deep into the pockets of his sweatpants. “Tall. Gangly. Gray suit. Ya want him in here?”

“Yes,” Adrien said a little too quickly. He cleared his throat and repeated evenly, “Yes, bring him in.”

Plagg opened the door a little wider and moved to the side to let the new man in. As the eccentric man entered, Adrien got a feeling as to who he was before anything was even said.  His nose started tingling.

Adrien nodded at Plagg to let him know he could leave, then directed his full attention on the man. His nose twitched and he put a finger underneath to stop a sneezing fit. For a long few moments, Adrien simply examined the lanky man, thinking of things to say.

A flash drive was thrust under his nose. Adrien jerked back and warily examined it before accepting. The man in front of him said without prompting, “I merely do what I am paid to do.”

Adrien narrowed his eyes and set the flash drive down. “What’s your name?”

“You can call me Mr. Pigeon.”

“I—“ Adrien rubbed his temples. “I… will not call you that.” The man seemed unfazed. “Why did you do this?”

“I was paid to do so,” he repeated. Adrien resisted the urge to make a face.

“Your… _group_ is the one doing the redevelopment, right? Why do you need to do shady side-jobs?”

“Business is business,” Mr. Pigeon said. “My pigeons flock far and wide.”

…okay. This guy had some sort of weird obsession with pigeons—calling his gang pigeons, calling himself Mr. Pigeon, croo-ing over the phone—and Adrien was allergic to feathers, so he was eager to wrap the meeting up.

“Alright, well, thank you… I guess?” Adrien said. “I won’t take this to the police, but if I see you around again I just might.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you so much.” The man extended a hand and Adrien almost shook until he saw something poking out of his sleeve. He yanked his hand back.

“…why do you have a feather in your sleeve?”

“Ah.” Mr. Pigeon retracted his arm and slipped the feather out. “I want to be one with a pigeon as much as possible.”

“…alright. Bye now.” _Please take the feather with you,_ Adrien added on silently, sighing with relief when Mr. Pigeon did just that. He watched the man leave his office and then looked back down at his desk, all thoughts about peculiar men and birds slipping his mind as he stared at the flash drive. He picked it up and examined it, turning it this way and that, as if looking at its thin metal exterior would reveal any fraction of the information it could have inside. The information it _did_ have inside. This flash drive, if he predicted correctly, contained information about his stalker and hopefully a direct lead. Something like this could give him a huge upper hand over his father in the future. He didn’t want to call it blackmail—it wasn’t exactly that—but the prospect was similar.

He couldn’t be sure until he gave the contents a look, though. What would he find? Money transfer documents? Scanned pictures of signed contracts? Records, certificates, files of business?

In the end, when he plugged the flash drive in and opened the file, it wasn’t any of those. It was audio clips—lots of them. He buckled down in his seat and got comfortable before hitting play on the first one.

…

That year when he was 17 years old and ended up tangled in a road accident while trying to sneak out to visit his mother’s grave had been the year that everything went to hell.

The bus had been full of students, and since he looked none the different, he’d been herded to the police station with the rest of them. They were all minors, so everyone had to wait for their guardian to come pick them up. That was assuming they’d called their guardian, anyways, which everyone else had done. Everyone else except him. 17-year-old Adrien had been paralyzed with fear—not because of the accident he’d just been through, but because of what he knew was going to happen.

 He’d left earlier than he had the past two years to visit his mom’s grave. Instead of going in his free time, he’d just ditched private lessons, leaving an explanatory note and bribe in bills for his tutor that would hopefully stave off any possible snitching from the elderly man. Additionally, he’d ventured out a ways into the city before boarding a bus, just to make sure that nobody could bring him back if they somehow noticed he was gone. That meant his visit was longer than the usual 1 hour. And now that he was here, in the police station instead of back in his house like he _should have_ been, everyone would surely have noticed that he was gone. Including his father.

_Stupid._ It was just his luck that the one bus he managed to board had gotten some kind of problem in it and almost crashed. Then again, it _had_ lead him to seeing that girl—no, angel, who had somehow stopped the bus—but he had a feeling that she wouldn’t be able to help again.

An excruciatingly long hour passed in the police station, in which the number of students inside dwindled down until it was just him. He couldn’t try to sneak out; police were everywhere, and if they asked him to pull his hood down, he was done for. But wasn’t that what would eventually happen anyways? He was simply prolonging his time, sitting in the squat building with the gray paint and desks full of rustling piles of paper. He hated it here. He hated the police. Yet he sat there because he hated the thought of what was coming more.

His dread mounted when his vision filled up with the sight of a police uniform. _Curses_. It seemed like his time had run out.

 He tentatively glanced up, trying to move his head as little as possible. A stout, middle-aged man stood in front of him. Adrien could see his belt holding in the beginnings of a gut. He probably had children. He was probably a father. Adrien tried to staunch the unexpected pain that squeezed his heart by thinking, _Still a policeman._

“Where are your parents, son?” Any reply Adrien had begun thinking up vanished when the last word left the policeman’s lips. The middle-aged man took his silence and tense body to be nerves and chuckled. “Oh, don’t be scared. Police are just people, too. This your first time in a station or something?”

“No,” Adrien replied before he could stop himself. “I’ve been around police before.”

The man cocked a brow. “Eh? That can come off very wrong, you know.” He ducked his head, trying to see Adrien’s full face. “Why don’t you put your hood down?”

When Adrien didn’t move, he tried again, “Where are your parents?”

“I…” Adrien slid his hands into the pockets of his black hoodie, fingers brushing against the bulk of his phone. “I don’t have a phone to call them with.”

“And you just sat here the whole time? Jeez. There are phones here too, you know.” Adrien didn’t reply once again. The police muttered something about arrogant teenagers these days. “Well, come on now. Go up to the desk and use the phone to call your parents.”

Adrien swallowed. His body felt frozen, yet it was teeming with nervous energy at the same time. His leg was bouncing at slightly alarming speeds. “They’re…busy.”

“What’s the wait for? Your parents will want to hear from you. Doesn’t matter how busy they are.” _Not my father,_ Adrien thought bitterly.

“Kid…” That was when Adrien heard the slight change of tone in the man’s voice. It slipped from conversational and maybe a little irritated into a suspicious note. Adrien realized that he looked shady—he’d been sitting in the station for an hour, he hadn’t called anyone to pick him up, and his clothes were the type that those on the run wore. Especially with their hoods up. Adrien was proven right when the policeman took a step back and a hand drifted to his belt.

To hell with it. His luck had run dry long ago. Adrien grabbed the hood and threw it back, letting the full light hit his face. He saw the older man’s face shift from wary to outright shock as his jaw dropped. After all, ever since the death of Emilie Agreste, the public had nary seen her husband and son out, and that just meant everyone knew their faces all the better.

“You…you’re…”

“I’ll call my father now,” Adrien said quietly as he slipped his phone out of his pocket. He called Nathalie instead. When she picked up, she didn’t say any greeting and instead asked where he was. After telling her, she hung up and Adrien was back to waiting. A mere fifteen minutes later, Nathalie was inside the police station.

The car ride back was stiflingly quiet. She didn’t say anything and he didn’t ask. Although he was tempted to ask what was waiting for him back at the mansion, he wasn’t sure how. _Hey Nathalie, on a scale of one to ten, how deep in this pile of shit am I?_

He didn’t even understand why his father hated him visiting Emilie’s grave. He thought that his parents had loved each other. His stomach twisted at the thought of them fighting behind closed doors. It… hadn’t been like that, right? Adrien’s mind wandered to the golden mosaic portrait of his mother deeper inside the mansion and shook his head. No, it couldn’t have been, otherwise that painting wouldn’t be there. So what was the issue?

They arrived at the mansion. Adrien forced his legs to carry him outside of the car and into the house, Nathalie flanking his side and Gorilla on the other. When they got inside, Gabriel was standing in front of the funeral painting, his back turned. He didn’t show any indication of registering their presence, but when they’d stopped in the middle of the foyer, he spoke out. “You both may leave.”

His stomach felt like it had dropped to the ground. His father was dismissing Nathalie and Gorilla from the room. He’d never done that before. Adrien only got to exchange a glance with Nathalie before they were walking out of the room, leaving Adrien alone to face off his father.

And that was when the yelling began.

Adrien had never heard his father yell before. Hearing his voice boom around the foyer, echo off the walls in its full force directed at him made him crack. This was what he got for being caught.

“This is what you get,” Gabriel was booming an ironic imitation of Adrien’s own thoughts. “You stumble, and you fall. Had the bus not been controlled in time, you would have been tossed off the edge of that bridge! An Agreste does not succumb to moments of weakness, yet you insist on going to that forsaken grave year after year. See where it’s landed you!”

Adrien couldn’t hold it in anymore. He’d meant to keep his voice controlled, but instead it warbled. “ _Why_ is it forsaken?” Gabriel broke off with a shocked expression. Adrien never talked back. “Why do you hate that grave? It’s where Mom is! If I didn’t sneak out you would never let me go. I thought you loved Mom. What’s wrong with me visiting her?!” He drew in a breath. He’d meant to keep his face even, his voice controlled. He was trying to imitate his father, but he doubted any of it was showing effect. He probably looked more like a heartbroken little boy. His voice rose in volume. “Is it because you hate me so much that I can’t see her anymore? Am I that much of a tarnish to your stupid Agreste name—“

“ _Enough!”_ Gabriel bellowed. A thick, still silence followed in which both of the Agrestes faced each other. Only Adrien was heaving, composure beginning to break. “You are forbidden from leaving this house at all for a month. Afterwards, your goings will be monitored and you will be escorted. All online activity will be monitored as well.”

“That’s not—“

“Go inside,” Gabriel said, “until your right senses return again.”

Adrien was out of the room before Gabriel even finished. His vision was getting blurry and a headache pounded at his temples as he held tears in. It infuriated him how he fought like a little boy instead of a grown man, getting hotheaded and tearful. He wanted to be cold-faced, impassionate, reigning champion in a fight. Just like his father.

…No. Wait, he didn’t want to be anything like his father.

His foot caught on the edge of a table—he’d navigated into the dining hall in his fury—and he stumbled, hitting the ground painfully with his knees. _You stumble, and you fall._

He wanted to be like his father—but he couldn’t. Not when that man was so heartless. He hated him… but he shouldn’t. It was his father, the same man from three years ago, back when his mother was alive. Was he just being a bad son? Was it really all his fault? But all he’d done was visit his mother’s grave, and Gabriel provided no explanation as to why it was a bad thing to do.

His fault… Gabriel’s fault… his fault…

Adrien clenched his jaw so hard that it felt like it would pop. He was kneeling on the ground with tears and snot running down his face, and he was so utterly _lost_.  He wanted to scream. He wanted to run. He didn’t want to do any of that and just wanted to lay down. He didn’t know _what_ he wanted.

A hand settled on his shoulder. Adrien already knew it wasn’t his father, so he didn’t bother composing himself when he turned around. He met framed, blue eyes kinder than the ones that had sent him onto his knees.

“Your father was extremely worried,” Nathalie said, voice softer than its usual flat tone. “When we found out you’d been gone, he broke into a panic. Your tutor got fired.” _No. I liked him._ “He cares about you a lot, Adrien. He just isn’t good at showing it.”

Adrien dragged his sleeve across his nose messily. “Then _you_ tell me. Why is it so bad for me to go visit Mom’s grave?” Nathalie provided no response. Adrien turned away, gritting his teeth. “Right. You can’t tell me, either.”

“It’s not that. I know just as much as you do.” When she was met with a surprised stare, she shook her head. “Every man has secrets, Adrien. Especially a man like your father.” She then patted his head and waited until his tears stopped.

Four years later, Adrien left.

“What is the meaning of this?” Gabriel asked from his position atop the stairs, beneath the same funeral portrait. A position for disaster, Adrien had always thought. But he wouldn’t stick around to see the blizzard through for much longer.

Much like four years ago, the Agrestes stood in their positions, facing off, except this time Adrien was accompanied by two suitcases and a bag slung across his shoulder.

“I’m leaving,” he said simply. “And you can’t stop me.”

Gabriel was always quick with a repartee. “I would hope that you had more conscience for where a family lies in one’s life, Adrien.”

“What family?” He replied quietly. Unlike four years ago, when he’d shouted with a voice thick with emotion, Adrien didn’t raise his voice. It seemed to echo all the louder in the massive foyer, though. “There’s none of that.”

“You are an Agreste—“

Sensing his father’s Agreste Speech, Adrien cut him off. He wasn’t going to wait around until the words were too hard to spit out anymore. “Let me tell you something, Father.” Gabriel’s mouth snapped shut with a furious looking expression, but Adrien was undeterred. “The only reason I didn’t leave the second I turned 18 was because of Nathalie. She was always trying to cover up for you when you wouldn’t even bother yourself. She was the one who comforted me and was by my side.”

“That—“

“ _And,_ ” Adrien plowed on, “This house has lots of memories. From when Mom was around. There’s even a painting of her.” Adrien took in a deep breath. _Come on, Adrien. You thought this out. Now just say it._ “But none of that is worth being stuck under your thumb. I’m done.” It hadn’t been the eloquent, jab-filled speech he’d practiced, but it was enough.

His father’s expression was closed off, no more of the rare fury from when he’d been interrupted. Somehow, it made Adrien feel like the wall between them thickened. His final farewell, and Gabriel had no intention of taking any of the bricks down between them.

“You won’t survive on your own. You’ve lived a life of luxuries and have yet to see how difficult the world is.” There it was—the fearmongering. Thankfully, Adrien had planned out a response to that as well.

“Thank you for your concern, but I think I’ll manage.” Adrien reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a business card. “You probably can’t see from there, but I left one on your desk as well. It’s my new company.” Gabriel’s whole form stiffened.  “Another reason I didn’t leave when I was 18. I was busy building it up for this day.”

“When did you…” Gabriel sputtered, for once at a loss of words. “How? Without my noticing?”

“Do you want to know something?” Adrien asked, voice softening. “Someone once told me that every man has his secrets. So I made my own.” Adrien began to turn and leave when Gabriel’s voice rang out.

“If you leave,” Gabriel said, “You won’t be able to come back to the life you had before.” Not disownment, but instead a declaration that by leaving, things would never be the same again. Adrien stood stock still with his back to his father. His fingers twitched once. What did he think about that offer?

He didn’t have to think about it for long. _Fine by me._

Adrien walked out without a word, luggage in tow, not looking back once. He stopped only when Nathalie followed him out into the lawn.

“Adrien. Wait.” He waited for her to catch up. She looked slightly ruffled. “Adrien, this wasn’t what I…” She trailed off. “You weren’t meant to make your own company when I said every man has his secrets.”

“Nathalie, thank you.” Adrien took one of her hands in both of his own. “I know you didn’t mean for this to happen. You’re always trying to keep things together. But, to be honest…” Adrien looked up at the morning sky, a clear pale blue. It seemed to promise new opportunities ahead of him. An opening to a new day. He took in a deep breath and relaxed his shoulders, blinked back the emotion pressing at his eyelids. _You did it, Adrien._ “I think this would have happened anyways in due time. I wasn’t lying when I said I only stayed because of you, though. I’ll miss you.”

Nathalie, usually one to keep her emotions carefully neutral, blinked. Pushed up her glasses. “I… I’ll miss you too, Adrien.”

He grabbed onto his luggage again and shot one last smile at her. “Wish me luck in the future?”

“…Alright.” Nathalie let both hands fall limp to her sides and watched him leave the property. The Adrien he’d been from before that day was dead now. “Good luck with your company, Adrien.”

…

Audio clip 1: _“I want you to get Adrien back into this company. The payment will be in cash. Do what you must—don’t physically harm him, though. Just leave some anonymous messages for now. And don’t you dare get caught.”_

Audio clip 5: _“Up the ante. He’s not budging, so scare him a little bit. It should work.”_

Audio clip 13, the most recent one: _“The situation has gotten more urgent. Do you understand? I need him here, and now. Break into his home at night. That should be enough to scare him into the meeting. I can lend you a key. I have one.”_

The voice belonged to Nathalie.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHA! I MANAGED TO GET THIS CHAPTER OUT ON TIME!  
> Whew. Just as predicted, it's harder with school to get these out when they're not prewritten. But please keep supporting me guys, even if I slow down for a bit! Your comments make my day :)
> 
> This chapter is, for the most part, fluffy. Surprisingly enough after that last surprise bomb, right? Speaking of, I grinned like crazy for every surprised comment I got. Muahahaah!!!

Marinette peered through yet another door, frowning when all she saw was an empty conference table. She eased off of her tiptoes and sighed. _Where could he be?_

After relocating the tied up thugs to the basement (and placing a very heavy file cabinet in front of the door just in case), she’d gone back to the office to look for Adrien. He was supposed to have called her after the meeting was over to let her know how things went. They’d predicted that the thugs’ boss would call Adrien back with information about the stalker, but even if that wasn’t the case, Adrien should have called her to let her know. And when she called him, it went to his voicemail. So she’d decided to look for him on her own.

“He must have left his phone on silent,” Marinette muttered, stamping down any seedlings of worry. After all, he was a boss in his own building. No harm could really come in broad daylight, but Marinette was still a little antsy. She backed out of the hall and wandered around again. The office was really huge, and she was only in the main building. If Adrien had gone to one of the smaller buildings belonging to Chat Noir Games, then she was screwed.

There were promotional posters and figurines displaying colorful and huge mecha-bots, amongst various other game mascots, scattered throughout the office. Some were probably even things that hadn’t been released to the public yet. However, Marinette couldn’t find it in herself to fawn over them like she normally would have. _Seriously, where is he?_

She turned down another hall. By now she was thoroughly lost, but if it came down to it she could just ask someone for directions. She was about halfway through when she caught something in the corner of her eye in one of the rooms. Marinette quietly pressed herself to the door to see who it was.

She squinted. There were two people in there, but she couldn’t really make out their faces. It looked like a man and a woman. Marinette looked harder and realized that the bigger figure wore the lumpiest sweats she had ever seen.

“Plagg?” He was there with a petite woman. Marinette couldn’t see much, but from her vantage point… it looked like they were bickering. Childishly. She couldn’t hear anything but there was a lot of emphatic hand movements and exaggerated expression going on. She was proved right when the woman flicked Plagg’s forehead, causing him to jerk back and rub the sore spot. Marinette stifled a snort with her hand.

Right at that moment, the woman looked past Plagg’s shoulder and locked her eyes right onto Marinette’s. Out of instinct, Marinette shoved away from the door, heart pounding like crazy. She wanted to high tail it out of there, but at the same time, she didn’t want to appear suspicious or accidentally come across the woman later in an awkward, chance encounter. Knowing her luck, the “chance encounter” would be a _high_ change encounter. So with great reluctance, Marinette turned around and cautiously cracked the door open and stuck her head in.

“Uh… sorry to interrupt,” she said, startling Plagg. He quickly spun around, looking gobsmacked at being caught doing whatever it was that they were occupied doing. “Have you seen Adrien around?”

“Adrien?” Plagg asked, regaining his composure. “He said he was gonna be at the stockholders’ meeting today. I haven’t heard anything from him other than that.”

“Oh,” Marinette asked, wilting slightly. “Okay. Sorry again for interrupting.” She began to leave when a voice called out.

“Wait.” Marinette froze and turned around again. The woman next to Plagg had called out. Her voice was high pitched and soft, yet somehow equally commandeering. Her image seemed to reflect that, too: she was cutesy-looking in her pixie stature and bob haircut, but her eyes were sharp.

“You’re Adrien’s new bodyguard, right? Marinette?” Marinette silently nodded. The woman seemed to consider something before smiling. The gesture brightened her whole face into an amiable expression. “I’ve heard lots of things about you. You want to join the Character Development and Design department, right?”

“Um…yes,” Marinette answered, glancing between her and Plagg. “Did Plagg…?”

“He can be a blabbermouth,” the woman said cheekily, grinning when Plagg made an indignant noise. “But anyways,” she said, looking straight into Marinette’s eyes again, “good luck.”

“Thank you,” Marinette said uncertainly, backing away from the door. _Why did I get chills when she said good luck?_ Marinette paused, then shook her head vigorously. _No time for that. I need to find Adrien._ She ventured a little further into the building, into a zone where there were no employees at all. She was about to back out when she caught sight of a figure near one of the glass walls, looking out at the skyline.

“Adrien!” Marinette rushed forward, slowing as she got closer to him. The more she looked, the steelier his expression seemed, reflected in the glass of the window. His businessman attire and combed-back hair added to that untouchable image. Marinette stopped a few feet away from him. After a few seconds of examining him in which he didn’t seem to notice her, she tentatively decided to venture. “How did it go?”

The silence in the next few seconds almost made her think that he hadn’t heard her at all, until his head dipped a little and he finally blinked. At long last, he said, “I found the culprit.”

Marinette studied his face. _I guess it makes sense. Even if he’s not close with his dad, having confirmation that your own father has been harassing you must be a lot._ “I guess the good thing is now you can move past your dad—“

“It wasn’t Father.” Marinette cut off in shock, blinking twice at the news. _What?_ Not his father? He was the prime suspect—all signs pointed to him! If not him, then… “Was it one of the Bourgeoises?”

“No.”

Marinette paused in thought for a moment. Her face screwed up when she reached an odd conclusion. “Your _bodyguard?_ ”

Adrien barked out a short laugh drained of any humor. “Even you don’t think it’s possible.”

“What’s that supposed to…” She faltered. Then her eyes widened. “No way… _Nathalie?_ ”

Adrien’s shoulders shook. It was hard to tell whether he was faking laughter again or holding in something else. “Why did she do it? I thought… I thought she cared about me,” he whispered. He wiped a trembling hand over his face. “I just wish she’d been honest with me. The voicemails, the stalking, all of it… if she’d just told me herself instead of me having to…” He clenched his teeth. His hand traveled back up to clamp over his eyes. Marinette watched him tense against the glass, feeling like a piece of her own heart was being broken. It would have been better if it had been his father. His father wasn’t caring with him, hadn’t been close with him in years. _It should have been him._

“What do I do now?” He asked. It took her a second to realize he was talking to her. He turned to face her. When she saw his eyes her heart really _did_ crush into itself; if eyes were the window to the soul, then his were clearer than the glass in front of them. Rimmed red and with slightly swollen lids, it was clear he’d been struggling. And he looked utterly hopeless. “What do I do now?” He repeated.

Marinette looked out the window to the Parisian skyline, Eiffel Tower visible with busy streets below. She thought for a moment before turning back to him with clarity. She grabbed his wrist, prompting a surprised grunt.

“Now we go,” she announced before turning and dragging him off. He was being stubborn, but thankfully that didn’t pose a problem for Marinette at all as she literally dragged him on his heels. He was forced to regain his balance behind her and sputtered out, “Where are we going?”

Marinette marched on without pause. “Retail therapy.” She looked back at him. His eyes and face were rounded into surprise O’s. Her mouth quirked into a little smile. “But not your version, or the normal version. _My_ version.”

…

 

Adrien stared at the sight in front of them. A cacophony of screams faded in and out of earshot along with the rumbling of cars on tracks. Railed metal structures twisted into the air, adorned with numerous cartoon characters in shiny lacquer. Balloons bobbed in the air as the laughter of children, more shrieks and chatter filled the air. Since it was a work day and work hours, the park was relatively empty with fairly short lines comprised of mostly little kids with painted cheeks.

“This is an amusement park,” he finally said.

Marinette nodded. “Yup.” She glanced at him. “What’s with the look on your face?”

He quickly schooled his face into one of less wonder. “I’ve never been to one.” He looked down at his attire and his face twisted up into a frown. “And I don’t think I’m dressed to be in one either…”

“You’re super fine,” Marinette blurted. They shared a wide-eyed look before Marinette repeated, “You _look_ fine.”

A half-smirk found its way onto his face, the first in hours. “Super fine?”

Marinette’s eye twitched as her entire face flushed. Through gritted teeth, she said, “Super fine as in super normal.” He looked smugly unconvinced, so she looked around and thought quickly. “You know what? Let’s go on that ride now!” She pointed to the largest ride in the park, one filled with twists and loops. Adrien blanched, quickly forgetting about Marinette’s blunder.

“Uhh, I don’t think—“ It was too late; he was being dragged by Marinette, and she really had no intention of letting go. _Shit._

The next two hours saw Adrien and Marinette going through the park in its entirety. As it turned out, Adrien was a total scaredy-cat and screamed loudly on loops and dips, much to Marinette’s amusement. They ended up buying ice cream (that Marinette exclaimed about how overpriced it was) and went into a souvenir shop, where they picked out headbands. Adrien got black cat ears while Marinette picked curly antennae.

“Why did you get those?” He asked as they left the shop, eyeing how the antennae bounced like springs. Marinette shrugged.

“I dunno, they could be any bug, right? If they’re ladybug antennae then I have good luck now.”

“Not sure how that works,” Adrien said wryly, raising a hand to pinch his cat ears between two fingers. “Then I would have bad luck, right?”

Marinette fell silent for a moment before dragging him off to another high intensity ride in which he passed out for a few seconds at a time.

The two of them slumped down on a bench at the end of the two hours, thoroughly worn out. Marinette had dragged them across the entirety of the park, stopping on every and any ride that was high intensity much to Adrien’s chagrin. Ridiculously enough, the ride that Adrien was attracted to was the drop tower, which Marinette hated the most. That time he had to go alone on it because she couldn’t be dragged along no matter how hard he tried (unsurprisingly). He actually went on it twice before deciding to call it quits.  They’d eaten expensive theme park ice cream, ran through the water-geyser section without their shoes trying not to get wet, and compared each other to weird bobbleheads in the various souvenir shops. All in all, it was an exhausting two hours.

“Phew,” Adrien sighed, running a hand through his hair. His suit had gained some creases and his hair had fallen out of its impeccable combing, but he looked infuriatingly good enough that numerous women gawked while walking past, irking Marinette thoroughly for no discernable reason. She decided to ignore them as Adrien continued, “I am _never_ going on another ride again.”

“Come on, secretly you liked it.” Marinette grinned. “It’s so thrilling!”

“It’s terrible,” Adrien said somberly. “What’s thrilling is the drop tower.” Marinette made a face. “What? I don’t understand how you don’t like it. The feeling of the wind and freedom as you fall—“

“More like the feeling of my guts rising in my body.” They exchanged a look before breaking out into laughter.

“Ah,” Adrien sighed, placing a hand on his stomach. “I haven’t eaten all day.”

“Really? Me neither.” The day had flown by, first with the meeting, then with the whole… revelation. Marinette peeked at Adrien; his face had lost some of the tension that it held a few hours ago. She doubted a day at the amusement park would be worth much in the long run, but she’d been hoping that it could help him forget and release his frustrations for a while, and it seemed like it had worked.

“Let’s go somewhere to eat,” Marinette said, getting up. “I know a good place.”

…

By the time they finished eating, the sun was already setting. They ended up taking a bus home since they had walked all the way to the amusement park. It was fairly empty inside, and they sat down in the back seats.

“I haven’t ridden a bus in a long time,” Adrien mused as the vehicle started up. “The last time I rid, it almost got into an accident.”

Marinette cocked her head. “Really? How?”

“The brakes stopped working,” Adrien explained. “I was sitting in the back seat like right now and the bus began going out of control. But then it stopped, and when I turned around, there was a girl standing there.” He turned to look out the back window as if he could see her again with a wistful expression on his face. “I think she might have been an angel that my mom sent to protect me.”

Marinette stayed silent, processing his story. It sounded really familiar—like the time she had used her powers in public for the first time when she was in lycee. She’d stopped a bus from careening off a bridge and quickly ran away from the sight before anyone could see.

_Hold on._ She studied Adrien’s face, still turned towards the window. _Could it be…? No, that would be too coincidental that we met so many years ago. But—_

A ringing ripped Marinette out of her thoughts. She took her phone out to see that her mom was calling her. She picked up. “Hello?”

“ _Marinette? Your grandma ended up visiting.”_

Marinette gasped. “What? Really?!” Gina Dupain, her grandma from her mom’s side, visited twice or even thrice a year because she kept traveling around and made a stop in her old hometown of Paris quite often. However, Wei Cheng, her grandma from her mom’s side, didn’t get to visit too often since she lived all the way in China. Both of her grandmas were absolute badasses, but Marinette found a kinship in Wei that she didn’t find in Gina because they both had super strength. “Out of the blue like that?”

“ _Yes, well, your grandma is like that sometimes. She said she came for my birthday, but I suspect she wants to spoil you again. She has a suitcase full of what I suspect are gifts for you.”_

Marinette giggled. “Really?”

_“Would you be able to come home tonight?”_ Sabine’s voice took on a worried tone. _“Or is it still too dangerous?”_

“I think I can manage. I’ll come.”

“ _Are you coming alone?”_

“Nope. Don’t worry.”

_“Oooh, are you with your boss? Is he dropping you off? How—“_

“Alrighti’llseeyousoonbye!” Marinette quickly hung up and released a deep breath, fighting the urge to massage her temples.

“Was that your mom?”

“Yeah,” Marinette replied. “My grandma seems to have spontaneously visited. I was going to stay with you, but I think I’ll go home because of my grandma.” She elbowed Adrien (careful to keep it light) in the side. “Will you be alright on your own?”

 “Psh. Who’s worrying about who?” Adrien elbowed her back. “Don’t walk in those streets at night. It’s still dangerous.”

“All right, all right.” Marinette eased back into her seat. “Speaking of, when will I be transferred?”

“Huh?”

“You said when your stalker was caught, I would be transferred to the Character Development and Design department,” Marinette said. Adrien looked gob smacked for a second before quickly clearing his throat.

“You have to finish your training first.”

“Huh?!” Marinette’s expression turned peeved. “That’s not what you promised me!”

“When you can blend into your surroundings and defend yourself completely without any risk of diarrhea or whatever,” Adrien said, “then you’ll be finished with your training.”

Marinette looked irked, but held up a pinky. “Pinky promise.”

Adrien contemplated it before linking her pinky with his. “Pinky promise.”

“Oh, this is our stop.” Marinette pressed the button for their stop and began to get up. “I guess I’ll catch another bus that goes by my house.”

“I’ll walk you,” Adrien offered.

“Huh? Really?”

“Yes. It’s not that far,” Adrien pointed out. “Also, I think I have to visit my old house today too.”

“Ah, okay.” They stepped off the bus into the cool night and began walking. When they neared the bakery, Marinette turned to him.

“Good luck,” she said with a small smile. “With what you’re about to do.”

“Ah… right,” Adrien said, rubbing the back of his neck. He felt awfully hot for some reason even though it was cool out. He’d avoided it the whole day, but now that it had come down to it, he was going to have to face Nathalie knowing the full truth. He swallowed. “I’ll need all the luck I can get.”

Marinette suddenly snapped her fingers and rummaged around in her bag. After a few moments, she let out a triumphant noise and pulled out the antennae headband, curly wire slightly crushed. She straightened it as well as possible and shoved it into his hands. He looked at it with a bewildered expression.

“Ladybug antennae, remember?” She tapped one of the big, plastic beads on the antennae. “Imagine this is me with you, alright?”

Adrien could just stare are the headband before a laugh, sounding more surprised than anything, escaped him. Without thinking, he wrapped one arm around Marinette in a half hug.

“Thanks,” he mumbled against her hair. “I’ll use this.” He pulled away and grinned at her before turning around and walking off in the other direction.

He went screaming in his head all the while ( _WHY DID I DO THAT?!_ ) not knowing that Marinette stood dumbly in the middle of the street, unmoving, until her mother and grandmother—who had been chatting inside the bakery—noticed her standing outside and went to fetch her.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> So... it has been 2 months. i pretty much did exactly what I said I wouldn't do, and also that which I hate when other people do. This story just took a seat on the back burner once school started. I usually had at least 5 chapters prewritten before publishing, but when school came I just dried up my resources and then vanished. SORRY!!!
> 
> This chapter is short. I'm trying to get back into this and balance it with all the other shit I have to do (ugh, junior year). Updates will also not be on a regular schedule as they were before, unfortunately, but I'm gonna try to write as I go! 
> 
> Thanks to all that left comments during my hiatus. Those built up over time and rejuvenated me enough that I decided to hop back into this. THANK YOU!!!

Adrien didn’t know whether to feel relieved or antsy when it was the Gorilla who answered the doorbell. Adrien was expecting Nathalie’s voice as usual, but instead there was one grunt before the gates were swinging open.

The lawn was immaculate and the stone path was lit up by artificial torches so that there was clear, white light bathing the lawn. Nobody was there to greet him at the door. Maybe Nathalie already knew he was here.

Well, of course she did. She was also at the stockholder’s meeting, where he announced his stalker and how close he was to finding them. He’d been so fixated on studying his father’s face that it didn’t cross his mind to look at anyone else. Was what he thought as her normal face actually panicked? Or had she really been concealing everything behind a poker face? Had she been panicked at all, or was she the calm and composed woman he’d always known her to be?

Adrien realized just how little he knew about her.

He pushed one of the massive doors open and stepped inside, shoes clacking on the marble tile The inside of the house was dark, save for dim yellow lighting spilling out from a far-off room down one of the halls. Nathalie’s office.

He clenched the headband tighter. _Imagine this is me with you, alright?_ With a deep breath, he strode towards the source of the light, walking straight through the doorway without stopping. There sat Nathalie at her desk, typing something on her computer. She looked at him and stopped.

They stared at each other in silence. All the bravado with which Adrien had walked in had vanished; the headband, for all its worth, couldn’t bring Adrien back to the ground as numerous scenes played out in front of his eyes, ghosts flitting around in his vision.

_Ten years old. It’s Christmastime and I walk inside to give Nathalie a mug of hot cocoa. She drinks all of it even though she can’t stand any drink like that unless it’s black coffee._

_Fourteen years old. Nathalie didn’t go to the funeral, but when I came home and sat in front of Mom’s portrait she stood next to me. I might have been sitting there for hours, but I don’t ever remember her leaving the room until I did._

_Seventeen years old. Nathalie sits by me in the dining room and tells me every man has his secrets._

_Twenty one years old. Nathalie wishes me good luck on my company._

When he was brought back to the present, she was still staring at him. He tried to think of something to say full of confidence, something that would show her that he wasn’t the same boy she knew, that she’d made a mistake. In the end, though, all that came out was the one question he’d been repeating in his subconscious over and over. “Why did you do it?”

She looked back down to the keyboard, fingers poised over them still to continue typing, but unmoving. Maybe she’d been thinking over an answer, because she replied almost right away. “For Gabriel.”

“Father was behind it?”

She shook her head, stamping down any seedlings of hope he may have had. “No. It was all me. Your father didn’t know about it.”

Adrien very much felt like a child standing in front of her as she gave her cryptic answers. He inhaled, clenched the headband again, and asked, “Then what do you mean by you did it for him?”

This time she paused. After a few seconds, she said hesitantly, “He wants you back. You ignore him at every turn, now, and he desperately wants you back at the company. More specifically, in this house.”

“Why?” He bit out. “Why is he doing that? Does he want to lock me up again? Is he finally worrying about passing the company on to someone?”

Nathalie gazed at him over the rim of her glasses. “I don’t know.”

Ticking silence. Then, Adrien scoffed. “You don’t know?”

“Every man—“

“—has his secrets. I know. Don’t say that.” Adrien swallowed a lump in his throat and lifted his free hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “If you had just asked me…”

“If I had asked you, then what? Would you have knowingly come back to this house? You hate it here.”

“So you thought it better to stalk, manipulate and harass me back into this place?” Adrien tried to glare at her but found it felt quite halfhearted. “Father doesn’t know about this. I doubt this is part of your job quota. So tell me, _why did you do this?_ ”

She leaned back in her chair and took her glasses off. She suddenly seemed a lot smaller as she closed her eyes and replied, “I already told you. I did it for him.”

Adrien stared at her, feeling like all his anger and energy drained out of him in one fell swoop. “You’d do anything for him, wouldn’t you?”

She stayed silent.

“Do you want to be able to give him what he wants? Is that why you used to care for me on his behalf? So he wouldn’t have to?”

She opened her eyes at that, looking weary. “You’re more perceptive than I thought.”

Adrien studied her face, lit up by the harsh screen light of her computer. _Perceptive? I wish. Then I would have known about you and I wouldn’t have to feel like this._ It hurt enough that he didn’t even know what to think. It wasn’t a tears type of hurt; it was one that had been sneaking up behind him and he was only now noticing its claws sunken in his heart. Maybe he’d already had a feeling, and he’d just ignored it. It had been so easy to do so when Nathalie had always been enough for his greedy heart that lapped up any attention it could get. Now it was tired. _He_ was tired.

She cared for his dad more than for him, enough so that she would harass him just to give Gabriel what he wanted. _She doesn’t really care about me, does she?_

“I won’t turn you in,” he said quietly. Her weary expression shifted into one of surprise. “Even if you weren’t doing it for me… I’m still happy you pretended to care.”

He could tell by the way her eyes flashed that she wanted to protest, but whatever it was, she bit down on it and apologized instead. “I’m sorry.” He almost wished she’d gone out of character and protested, denied, exploded, anything that wasn’t so… clean. So composed. So Nathalie.

It would have been nice to see that in their last ever conversation.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S WINTER BREAK YALLLL!!!!!!!!!
> 
> I had to reread my whole story just to remember what to write about. it is a very mixed up thing after all. I'm so excited to be back!!! Thanks to those who commented in my absence. It really lifted me up :)
> 
> Last chapter left off at a sort of conclusion to one of the problems. They finally found the stalker and Adrien confronted her. Now, we start a new section of the story! If you've watched the drama then this section will be the start of my OWN stuff. I won't be following the episodes as strictly now. OOOOOOOO I'm excited!
> 
> Anyways, enjoy! This chapter is SO FLUFFY ;)

Marinette and her grandma, Wei, stood wrapped up in each other's arms for who-knows-how-long inside the bakery before Sabine was clearing her throat.

“Are you planning on breaking apart anytime soon, or...?” Marinette simply squeezed her grandma tighter and relished in the feeling of doing so without squashing any internal organs. She could tell her grandma felt the same when her wiry arms tightened around Marinette's waist. “Alright, guys. It's been a good two minutes now.”

The two women finally broke apart. Marinette smiled up at her grandma, whose warm face was creased and hair was white, but eyes sparkled with youth. Wei teasingly turned on Sabine, saying, “No need to feel jealous.” Sabine rolled her eyes.

Marinette beamed. “Your French is really good now!”

Wei sniffed. “Of course. Your grandma's body is slow, but my mind is still quick.”

“How about a walk?” Sabine suggested. “I'd feel safe enough about it with two super-strong women by my side.” Her daughter and mother agreed to it and they all made their way back outside. Marinette checked in vain to see if Adrien would be there—she knew, logically, that he'd have left a long time ago, but it was sort of reflex. Sabine caught her slightly craning her neck and smirked.

“Did I tell you this yet, Mom?” She said. “Marinette has a full-time job as a bodyguard to a man.”

Marinette whipped her head around. “Mom, don't you begin--”

“A kind young man of the same age _,”_ Sabine continued, smirk growing wider, “And he's _handsome.”_ Marinette groaned loudly, smacking her forehead. Much to her chagrin Wei leaned over and elbowed her, waggling her eyebrows. She couldn't roll her eyes far enough into her head. Why did everyone have to gang up on her all the time?!

Thankfully, her grandma didn't dwell on it too much. Instead, she asked, “A job as a bodyguard?”

“Yes,” Marinette nodded. “He sort of found out about my powers by seeing me use them one day, and, well...” She shrugged. “The job pays well. I'm kind of invested, honestly, even if it's not not character design.”

“You're invested because your job is protecting _Adrien,”_ Sabine muttered. Before Marinette could protest too much, she continued, “It's good that you've found a use for your power, though. I know how you used to feel as if it were a burden.” She sent a smile to her daughter. “It's not bad after all.”

Wei nodded as Marinette took her mother's words in. “It may seem difficult,” she said, “But remember that we were chosen for this. It's in fate.” She pressed a finger against Marinette's chest, above her heart. “One day you will be able to use this power to protect that which you love, and you will never have been more thankful for it.”

“Have you used your power to protect something, then?”

“Of course!” Wei straightened up and grinned, heavy wrinkles forming at the corners of her eyes. “How else do you think I kept your mother out of trouble?” She smacked her hands together. “A little discipline goes a long way.”

“Ugh, Mom,” Sabine complained. Marinette giggled, silently happy about her mom being the embarrassed one for once.

They lulled into a silence as their walk led them to a park. The three of them sat down on a bench, Wei in the middle with her daughter and granddaughter leaning their heads on her shoulders. After a long silence, Wei said softly, “I hope you have a daughter one day, Marinette. This power is a great thing to pass on.”

Marinette stayed quiet. In truth, when she was younger she used to daydream about a future with Luka where they'd have three sons. Or two sons. Maybe one—but always a son. She didn't want to have a daughter. She didn't want to subject anyone else to what she thought of as a curse. And maybe it technically was considered a “curse”; her ancestors had recorded it in a Book of Curses. But, Marinette didn't think of it as such a bad thing anymore. It had led to a lot of good things in her life. She met Adrien because of it. Even if it got her into a lot of trouble, Marinette decided that what she went through was worth it anyways.

She wanted to be strong—not just physically, but mentally and emotionally too. She wanted to be strong for the people she loved. And, well, if she happened to have a power determining that she'd be able to do just that under the right circumstances, she wasn't going to be one to complain. Not anymore, when she needed to use it more than ever.

“I hope I have a daughter one day, too.”

…

Adrien sat at his kitchen, sipping on tea. He was still in his work clothes—the formal suit that he didn't really like—but found that he didn't want to change out yet, weirdly enough. He was still preoccupied thinking about Nathalie, and changing would make it feel like what had transpired an hour ago was a dream, not reality.

_I'm sorry._ That was it, then. After all that she'd put him through for months, and all the time they passed together back when he lived with his father (albeit she was only pretending to care), that was all she had to say. Two words. Infuriatingly enough, Adrien found himself dwelling on those two measly words.

Was she really sorry? Was there still something she wasn't telling him? _Couldn't_ tell him? Maybe Gabriel had put her up to it after all, and in order to save his image Nathalie decided to lie—

Adrien stopped, then sighed. He was still trying to justify her in his head. _Damn you, Nathalie._ It was like he was a lonely child all over again trying to hold on to his one lifeline.

_But I'm not lonely._ He looked at the headband on the counter and picked it up, straightening out the wire of the antennae again. A small smile appeared on his face. At least one good thing came out of the stalking situation; he ended up hiring Marinette as his bodyguard.

_Bodyguard._ He tapped his fingers on the countertop. He did promise her that she'd be transferred to Character Development and Design once they uncovered the identity of his stalker. Adrien wasn't one to go back on his promises, but for some reason he made up some random fact about “training” to prolong her stay. He didn't really know why he did that. The more he thought about it, though, the more it made sense. She _did_ need training to control her powers, or else she might end up with explosive diarrhea or—

_'We're sorry, Adrien. We don't exactly know how your mother died. It seems like an unknown affliction. We will definitely work to find out how this happened.'_

—or worse. He quickly set down the headband before he could accidentally crush the wire he'd been straightening. He redirected his shaky hand to the mug of tea and sipped, only to grimace when he realized it'd gone cold.

…

“Umm...” Marinette blinked at the boxing gloves sitting on her personal desk inside Adrien's office. “What exactly is this?”

Adrien got up from his chair, spinning as he did so, and strode over to Marinette. He picked up the gloves and held them out to Marinette so she had to accept them. “This,” he announced, “is the gateway to your special training.”

Marinette looked confused. “Wha?”

“Did you already forget? Once you train your powers, you can stop being my bodyguard.”

“Oh, _that,”_ Marinette said, rolling her eyes. “I dunno. Maybe I'll finish training and then you'll decide I have to beat you at UNO before I can be transferred.”

“This is for your own good,” Adrien insisted. “You're the one terrified of explosive diarrhea. If you can control your power, you'll really be unstoppable.”

Marinette grudgingly admitted he was right. “Fine, fine! But you better stick to our new promise. It was a _pinky_ promise, you know. That's more serious .”

“I know pinky-promise etiquette,” Adrien grumbled. At Marinette's unimpressed look he sighed. “We can even do it again if you want.” He held up his pinky. It turned out to be a mistake as the irked Marinette hooked her own pinky and jerked down so that his whole body jerked down with it. When Adrien was properly scared out of his wits Marinette released.

“Alright then,” she smiled down at him sweetly. “Let's go train!” She flounced out the door, Adrien watching incredulously all the while.

_What am I subjecting myself to? Does she really need to be any stronger?_

…

“With boxing gloves, I thought we'd be boxing,” Marinette said, looking at the punching bag in front of her in apprehension. They'd driven over to a nearby gym (which was empty, so Marinette suspected Adrien had rented the whole place out) and now she stood in front of a cylindrical punching bag, bigger than her own body, hanging from the ceiling.

Adrien balked at her comment. He was standing on the other side of the bag and holding it in order to stop it from swaying.

“Are you joking? I'm not trying to die here. This is day one. Maybe we'll get in the ring around... say, day fourteen.”

“Two weeks?” Marinette asked skeptically. “Come on, I'm not that bad. I can control my power already to some extent.”

Adrien opened his mouth to say ' _then prove it',_ but it seemed like Marinette was already on the same page as he suddenly felt a jolt. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for some kind of catastrophic damage, only to crack open one eye, then another, after three seconds of silence. He was still in one piece.

“Wow! Did you just punch?” He said excitedly, releasing the punching bag and walking around to join Marinette. She was being oddly quiet—he would expect at least some bragging. “That was actually pretty good! I guess you were right about controlling your—“

When he got to her side, he saw why she was silent.

She'd punched a hole straight through the bag. Stuffing was pouring out in a steady stream into a pile at a very sheepish Marinette's feet.

“--power...” Adrien finished dumbly. Marinette winced.

“Alright... I'll take your word for it.” She nervously giggled and grabbed the arm of Adrien, who was still listlessly staring at the punching bag, mouth opening and closing silently like a fish. “Uhh, let's go over there!”

  
For the next couple of hours, they worked inside the gym. Adrien had Marinette do all sorts of things and try to restrain her power. Unfortunately, the damaged punching bag was one of the lesser incidents. When Adrien had Marinette kick pebbles, an exercise which she complained about being stupid, the little rocks shot into the wall opposite them like bullets. Marinette quickly stopped complaining then. Weightlifting was like a joke for Marinette, and she accidentally threw the heavy two-hundred-pound weights into the air when lifting, almost breaking Adrien's foot. One of the things that Marinette _didn't_ demolish was the tire-run—where Adrien had her run while lugging a bunch of tires on rope. The tires were no problem for Marinette, but she utterly hated running, so there was less energy on her part.

After two excruciating hours of various exercises they both collapsed against a wall. Hilariously enough, Adrien looked more exhausted than Marinette. His jacket was falling off one shoulder, hair was sticking up in random places and he seemed to have gained eyebags over the course of their training session.

“Make it a month,” he croaked. “I'm not boxing with you...until a month has passed.”

“Uhh, right.” Marinette had quickly learned to go along with what Adrien said after the punching bag and pebble incidents. He turned out to be right most of the time. “Whatever you say, Boss.”

“Please don't call me that,” Adrien groaned, rolling his head back against the wall. “It's so weird.” That drew a giggle out of Marinette.

“What, like how people were calling you the 'Big Boss' yesterday just because you wore a suit?” Adrien groaned louder and covered his face with a hand, causing Marinette's giggles to increase. “Geez. I wonder what they'd do if you wore a suit all the time.”

“Don't even suggest that idea,” he mumbled against his hand. “It was the most uncomfortable thing ever.”

“But you looked good,” Marinette pointed out. She then realized what she said and slapped a hand over her mouth. But it was too late. Adrien had cracked an opening between his fingers so that he could look at her through one eye.

“What was that?”

“I-I mean...” Oh, God. She could almost feel a word-vomit rising. She breathed in deeply despite her burning face. _I have to own it now. I can't play dumb._ “J-just speaking objectively, of course. Everyone looks better when they clean up a bit.” _Not that you really need to,_ she added in her head, then almost slapped herself for the thought. _Shut up!_

“Hmm.” Adrien dropped his hand and squinted at her. She grew increasingly uncomfortable as a Cheshire grin grew on his face until she couldn't take it and yelled, “WHAT?!”

“You have something on your face,” he said cheekily. He leaned forward and swiped a thumb down her nose, retracting with a smudge of dirt on his finger. However, he didn't lean back. He stayed close as he stared into Marinette's eyes, his own moving back and forth from the proximity. She blinked, fighting to keep her face cool.

“W-what?”

He was silent for a few more seconds before softly saying, “Don't tell anyone about this.”

“Huh?” Was her intelligent response. Her brain was going into overdrive from sheer anxiety and nerves. “About what?”

He seemed to be contemplating something. “Us.”

Okay, now she was _really_ confused. All she'd been saying until now was 'what' or 'huh', and this time was no exception: “Wait, what?”

Adrien blinked and suddenly jerked back, the intense eye-contact broken. The moment passed as he coughed into a fist. “You know, about me training you. Like this.” He quickly got up and brushed his pants off. “Seems weird for a boss to have to train his bodyguard... you know... qualifications and all that...” His words dissolved into mutters as he moved towards the door. After a few seconds, Marinette collected herself and followed him. Neither of them mentioned what had just happened.

…

When they made it back to the office, Plagg was inside with the same woman from the day before. They weren't bickering this time, but simply sat together. From the looks of it, Plagg was doing some kind of work on his computer, which, well, it was an odd sight to see. Marinette had never seen the secretary actually working before. They both looked up when Marinette and Adrien entered.

“Yo,” Plagg greeted, then went back to doing whatever he was doing on his laptop. It involved a lot of typing and some cursing under his breath. The woman smiled at them.

“You're the lady from before,” Marinette said. “Um, sorry, I didn't catch your name...”

“It's alright, that's my fault,” she said smilingly. She got up and extended a hand, which Marinette shook. “My name is Tikki. I'm the head for Character Design and Development.”

Marinette froze, barely restraining herself from suddenly crushing Tikki's hand in her surprise. _The head? THE head of the department I want to get into?!_ Marinette whipped her hand back and covered her mouth, eyes widening.

“O-oh my gosh! You're—I didn't even realize--” Marinette wracked her brain, trying to think if she'd done anything to embarrass herself in front of Tikki. She saw the woman when she was searching for Adrien the day before. Had she been rude? Inconsiderate? _She couldn't remember!_ What if Tikki was here to tell her that she should quit trying to get into Character Design? What if Marinette had made an awful mistake—

“It's okay!” Tikki laughed, snapping Marinette back to reality. “No need to be so formal. I was just in here with Plagg.” Marinette relaxed. _No getting fired before I can get hired! Nice._ Tikki glanced over at Plagg's screen and her face took on an unimpressed expression. “Really, Plagg? Why are you playing Tetris again?”

“I'm taking a break,” he muttered, hissing out a curse again. Marinette realized his 'typing' was just the intense mashing of the arrow keys. Adrien had a similar reaction to Tikki as he sighed and rolled his eyes.

“I guess you two are friends,” Marinette mused to Tikki and Plagg. All Marinette really knew about Tikki was that she was a creative genius, able to pump out new and incredible designs seemingly without pause. She was a legend amongst the visual-communications community. However she was like, she was _very_ different from Plagg. Somehow they appeared to be very close despite all that.

“I suppose you could say that,” Tikki said, rolling her eyes again. “We've always been friends but only came together as colleagues when Adrien started this company.” She smiled at the CEO. “I still don't know why someone like him would choose Plagg as his secretary.”

“I don't know what you mean,” Plagg said. He didn't even have the decency to sound affronted as his arrow-smashing sped up, then suddenly stopped. “Aw, dammit...!” His hand moved to the trackpad. Tikki tracked his movements, then cuffed the back of his head.

“OW! What was that for?!”

“Don't start a new game,” Tikki hissed. Plagg closed his laptop with a grumble and turned to Adrien.

“I heard your stalking situation is solved,” he said. “How'd it go?” Marinette discretely turned her head so she could see Adrien's face as well. Currently he looked like he had a sour lemon in his mouth as he processed Plagg's question.

“It went... fine. The problem is solved now, so that's good.” He glazed the question over. Plagg didn't seem to be bothered by the vague response at all as he stood up and patted Adrien's shoulder in a rare comforting gesture.

“Well, that's that,” he said resolutely. “Although, now I do have to ask.” He turned around and stared at Marinette with a shit-eating grin growing on his face that Marinette decidedly did not like at all. “What do you need Miss Bodyguard for?”

“Training,” Adrien said bluntly, and quickly continued before Plagg could open his mouth. “And I was thinking Tikki should assess her skills as well. You _are_ the head of the department and all.” Marinette blinked. She didn't know about this. When the petite woman smiled at her, Marinette's eyes widened and she could feel a giddy rush coming on. _Is this real?_

“We'll be spending more time together, then,” Tikki declared in that same authoritative-yet-sweet tone. “It's a pleasure to be working with you, Marinette.”

“Y-you too!” Marinette squeaked. She could hardly believe it. _THE Tikki is going to be assessing my skills. Looking at my designs._ It was like a dream come true. Just as soon as the excitement set in, though, so did the nerves. _Oh God, what if my designs are really horrid?!_

_  
_A reassuring hand was placed on her shoulder. Marinette snapped out of it and realized Tikki was speaking. “I'm free tomorrow at lunch. How's that? I can look over your designs then.”

“Um, yes!” Marinette blurted. “I mean, I can come tomorrow at lunch. With my designs. Yeah. Sounds peachy!” Marinette wanted to slap herself. _Oh shut up already!_ Tikki didn't look fazed and instead patted her shoulder, smiled one last time, and bid farewell to Adrien and Plagg (warning him not to play more games once she left) as she went out the door. Marinette turned back to Adrien in a sort of daze.

“Did that just happen?”

“Mhm.” Adrien was coolly examining a bobblehead on his desk, but a smile was growing on his face. “I thought I told you. Did I forget?”

Marinette didn't know whether to shout in joy, or jump, or just hug Adrien right then and there. Right then, though, Plagg dryly interrupted the moment. “Don't mind me, lovebirds. Just a guy sitting in between you here.”

“WE'RE NOT BEING LOVEBIRDS!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww! Lookit them....


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! New chapter here!
> 
> Unrelated but I read Six of Crows (like a while ago actually but I was absent from here lol) and I've been rereading it and it's just. SO GOOD?????? WHO LET A BOOK BE THIS GOOD????? Kaz and Inej have me soft. If you like YA books I HIGHLY HIGHLY HIGHHHLLLLYYY recommend SOC. It's premise is so different from the typical "special-girl-who-has-special-powers-saves-the-world-and-has-special-love-problems-on-the-side" narrative; there's like 6 main characters who have to go on a heist. I'd probably ruin it by explaining it. Aight i'm ranting now.
> 
> ANYWAYS, new chapter. I feel like it has been a while since we've seen Luka, and it will be a few chapters yet. When things pick up. :)

Marinette was practically vibrating in her seat. Tikki hadn't said anything so far, and she'd been leafing through Marinette's designs for at least ten minutes now—although it felt like _hours._ Every hum or eyebrow raise from her sent Marinette on edge. She had to restrain the urge to jump across the table and see what was making Tikki react the way she was. In front of Marinette, her unsipped coffee was growing cold. Tikki picked up her own sweet iced tea and took a leisurely sip before resuming her study, making Marinette want to bang her head on the table out of frustration. _I wish I was a person with more patience!_

Finally, at around the time Marinette felt like she was just about to explode, Tikki set the packet down and beamed at Marinette. “Those designs...” She began. Marinette sweated. _What? 'Are the worst'? 'Are the ugliest things I've ever seen'? 'Make me want to never see your face again'?_

“...are absolutely amazing.” Marinette froze, then let out a breath she didn't know she was holding in a disbelieving, breathy laugh.

“You really think so?”

“I know a good design when I see one,” Tikki said with certainty. “The range in characters, their color palettes, the variety in their shapes. Everything is top notch.” Marinette couldn't believe her ears. “I know I said this already, but it'll be a pleasure working with you when you join us.”

“Th...thanks,” Marinette breathed. Tikki linked her hands under her chin and tilted her head, regarding Marinette keenly.

“I can tell you're nervous,” she commented, causing Marinette to choke on her spit. Tikki waited for her to regain control over her breathing. Once Marinette's face was a little less like a tomato, Tikki continued, “I was like you once, too, you know. However unbelievable it may seem.” Marinette stared at her with wide eyes. “All you need to focus on is creating, Marinette. Don't doubt yourself and you'll do great things.”

“I—thank you,” Marinette repeated. She felt like she was thanking the woman a whole lot, but didn't know what else to say in the face of such high praise from someone with such a big reputation.

“Once Adrien discharges you of your bodyguard position, you're free to come over to Character Design.” At that moment their waiter came with their food. Marinette blinked upon seeing that Tikki's lunch was a slice of cake and chocolate chip cookies. _Okay. To each their own._ They started eating and Tikki tilted her head again, regarding Marinette in that same way. “You know, you don't look like the typical bodyguard.”

Marinette laughed bashfully. “Yeah, I get that a lot. I'm on the small side.”

“When I first saw you, I thought you must be trained in martial arts or something like that,” Tikki said, keeping a casual tone. “But Plagg told me that you've got exceptional strength.”

“H-he did?!” Marinette blanched. _Did he go around telling everyone?_ Tikki caught her expression and quickly said, “Oh, he doesn't tell just anyone. Just me. I'm sort of... involved, you see.”

Marinette tried not to gawk. What did that even mean? _Involved?_ That simple statement sent hundreds of questions buzzing through her head at once. However, Tikki had fallen silent as she poked her fork through her cake repeatedly. Marinette fumbled with her own fork and tried to eat, but found that she was thinking too much.

What connection could the head of the department possibly have to Marinette's super-strength?

After a long silence, Tikki said, “Let's go for a walk.” Marinette wasn't done with her food, but she doubted she'd have been able to stomach it anyways. Tikki had somehow finished her cake and pastry in the moments that Marinette wasn't staring at her. Marinette got the feeling that Tikki wanted to go for a walk because there were too many ears able to listen inside the cafe. But that was ridiculous—right?

She followed Tikki outside. They walked in silence for a while until they reached the same park Marinette, Sabine and Wei had sat in the night before, and they ended up sitting on the same bench, too. Marinette resisted the urge to bounce her knee as she waited for Tikki to speak. She looked conflicted about whatever she was deciding to tell Marinette... or not tell. Marinette hoped that she would speak soon, for her own sanity.

“Does the name Fu sound familiar?” Marinette froze at Tikki's sudden words. _Fu._ It did sound familiar. It was—

_'There's a little signature down here... Fu?'_

The Book of Curses. Marinette fought to keep her face neutral. For all she knew, this conversation was headed in a totally different direction. She wasn't going to go spouting off information about the Book until Tikki made it abundantly clear that she knew about it. Although, with the way things were going, Marinette wouldn't be surprised...

Tikki noted Marinette's expression. “I see you recognize it. You must know about the Book of Curses, then. Fu is the current Guardian of the Book.”

Alright, so Tikki did know. Marinette decided she could freely ask away and, with a confused expression, said “Guardian?”

“Yes,” Tikki nodded. “That's what the person who is supposed to take care of the book is called.”

“Why does the book need to be taken care of?”

Tikki leaned back on the bench. “It's a lot more than just a collection of the first accounts of the curses. It contains important information about Undoing.”

Marinette's eyes widened. “Undoing? What is that?”

Tikki pursed her lips. “It's...well. It's something that should never be done to a person, ever. The circumstances under which it can be done are extremely slim, but...” She shuddered. “It borders on torture—no, it _is_ torture.”

Marinette was more intrigued than ever, even if it sounded morbid. She leaned in. “What is it?”

“If two people both have a curse, one person's—let's call it _curse energy—_ one person's curse energy can be transferred to the other. It leads to the transferee having an excess of curse energy, causing them to go insane at the very best and total self-destruction at the very worst. The transferor, who gets their curse energy taken out of them, dies.” Marinette's face was pale from listening to the explanation. “I don't quite know the process of how undoing works. To extract that information from the book, you have to look at certain words from every chapter. It's a lot of work. What I _do_ know is that its horrific.”

There was silence again as Marinette processed that information. Insanity at best, death at worst. It sounded _terrifying._ It made her realize that the weight of her power went way beyond her own self. What if it was used as a medieval form of torture for the women who had curses in the past?

What if it could be used on her...?

She shuddered. _Don't be stupid._ There was nobody who could know how to do that, or would want to for that matter. She decided to divert the topic with a question that had been weighing on her mind.

“So how do you know all this?”

Tikki smiled for the first time in their conversation. It filled up her previously-stressed face with sunshine again. “Fu is the Guardian. I'm one of his trusted confidantes. So is Plagg.”

Marinette choked and sputtered, “Plagg?!”

“Yes.” Her smile turned mysterious. “He is good at keeping a secret, believe it or not.”

_Is it a small world, or what?_

“So...” Marinette wrung her fingers. “I'm glad you told me all this, really, but... why? Is it just because I have a curse? What do I have to do with Fu?”

The smile dropped off Tikki's face. “I haven't told you the most important thing yet. Under Fu's guardianship, the Book was stolen. We've been trying to find it ever since.” Tikki put a hand to her head. “This was nine years ago... so when you were fourteen.”

Marinette stopped. She felt like ice was pooling in her stomach. _Guardian._ She hadn't even processed it, but if this man Fu was a Guardian for the Book—that meant that he had to be _guarding it._

Which he could not do if Adrien currently got the book... from a safe in Gabriel's house...

“I'm surprised you remembered the Book at all,” Tikki was saying, oblivious to Marinette's plight. “You must have been in your early teens when you saw it. To remember even Fu's name which is just in the introduction, that's really good memory...”

“No,” Marinette hoarsely whispered, making Tikki pause. “I... I saw it for the first time a few days ago.”

Tikki was blank for a few seconds, then she suddenly jerked up as if she'd thought about what Marinette had just said. Her hands found themselves on Marinette's shoulders as Tikki leaned in, staring at Marinette's horrified face with urgency. “What? Where?!”

“Adrien and I found it in his dad's house,” Marinette said, her mouth slowly working around the words. It couldn't be... “Locked in a safe.”

Tikki's hands fell off of Marinette's shoulders. Her mouth was slightly open. “What?”

Marinette felt like her head was going to explode. Gabriel was hiding a book in his safe. An “undoing” power could give one person's curse energy to the other. The book was stolen nine years ago. It felt like she was missing one puzzle piece. What was it? She couldn't think. It _had_ to be connected... but she couldn't think _how._ Whatever it was—

“I need to tell Adrien.”

…

 

“Wait!” Tikki's hands flew out and found themselves on Marinette's shoulders again, grounding the girl with surprising force. “Don't do that yet.”

“What?” Marinette whipped her head back to face Tikki, incredulity plain as day on her face. “Why not?! He has every right to know!”

“I know he does,” Tikki quickly assured her, “but just think about it. We don't have any facts down yet for sure. If we go to Adrien with all these speculations about his father, then it'll just be bound to stress him out unnecessarily.”

That gave Marinette pause. Tikki was right, but... “How can we keep it from him? He's the one who has the Book of Curses right now. He wouldn't give it up to you unless he knows why he should.”

“It's fine if he doesn't give it up. For now, we know that the Book is in good hands.” Tikki released Marinette and crossed her arms in thought. “The first thing that needs to be done is meet up with Fu. We need to discuss this. I'm sure he'll be relieved at having the Book of Curses back again, but stealing it is no small affair.” She glanced at Marinette out of the corner of her eye. “I don't suppose Adrien has any idea about why Gabriel locked it up?”

“He knows just as much as me,” Marinette said. Her gut was churning uncomfortably at the thought of keeping such important information from Adrien. They were supposed to trust each other like partners. “I still think he deserves to know about this...”

“Trust me, Marinette,” Tikki said reassuringly, “we definitely will let him know. Just once we get some more concrete facts down. Usually only people with curses are told about all of this, but he does have a direct connection to this whole mess. He will know.” Her words only relieved the churning slightly. Marinette _really_ didn't like keeping secrets, especially from people she cared about. However, she knew that Tikki was being perfectly reasonable, so there was no reason for her to raise a fuss. She agreed in a muted voice.

“Alright, now that that's settled.” Tikki exhaled. “I wonder when we should meet up with Fu. I shouldn't spring something as big as this on him—who knows what it'll do to him in his old age—but I do want to let him know ASAP.” She turned to Marinette. “What time works for you?”

Marinette blinked. “I'm going too?”

“Of course.” Tikki tilted her head. “At first, the reason I was telling you all about this was because you have a curse. But now that you have such big leads on the Book, it's quite fitting that you come along too.” At Marinette's constipated look, Tikki giggled. “Oh, don't worry. Fu is the least intimidating man you could imagine. How does tomorrow morning sound?” As an afterthought to herself, she tacked on, “I think he opens shop around midday...”

“Umm, yeah, that works.” Marinette winced. “I'll just have to tell Adrien that... I've got an appointment.”

Tikki offered her a sympathetic glance. “You know, it's really good that you're friends with your boss. Adrien is an amazing person. I'll be the one to tell him everything if you want, or even Plagg.” She paused, then wrinkled her nose. “No, nevermind. Anyways, the point is, there's nothing to be worried about.”

Marinette giggled a little at that. “Alright. Um... it was really great talking to you.”

“You too.” Tikki smiled. “It's uncanny how we're all connected to each other in one way or another.”

“Yeah.” Marinette couldn't help but agree. Every person she got to know in recent weeks ended up being a part of an intricate, interwoven web.

Funny how that happens.

...

“Alright, Nerezza. We're going to check your vitals now.”

Lila looked over to where the nurse had just entered her hospital room and pasted a smile onto her face. She could do so now without reopening her split lip. Thanks to medical aid, stingy ointments and a whole lot of bandaids, Lila was slowly recovering.

As much as she hated her boss, he knew how to pull the right strings. She wasn't Lila Rossi—for her stay in the hospital, she was Nerezza Venturi, an Italian tourist visiting France who'd unfortunately gotten hit by a motorcycle in a busy street. It explained the point of impact where her ribs had broken, as well as the numerous scrapes and cuts along her body. Even her concussion could be explained away by the motorcycle accident from when she'd fallen and hit her head on the concrete.

Lila had fainted in her hideout shortly after receiving that kick, but when she woke up again the pain was unbearable. She'd called up her boss again and demanded a solution. A few hours later, there was a banging at the door of her hideout; when Lila dragged herself over to check, there was a fake ID waiting for her on the ground and a debit card. Infuriatingly enough, her boss provided no other assistance; Lila had to make up a cover story, and then limp over to an appropriate location in the middle of the night, all by herself, before calling the ambulance.

Well, whatever. She was here now. Lila knew hospitals could be exceptionally boring, but because of her concussion (the stupid concussion she didn't even know she had) she hadn't even been allowed to watch any TV from the screen in the top right corner. For entertainment all she had was her own mind. She also realized offhandedly that the lamb in her cell may have died by now without any food or water for a few days. _Oh, bother._ Now she had a corpse to deal with once she got back.

She was still busy wondering how exactly she'd be able to get the ladybug down for good. More importantly, she needed to find out why exactly the boss needed her. That super-strength was unnatural, and for the boss to want her alive—he must be thinking of making some sort of use of that strength. But Lila couldn't make sense of how he could make the Ladybug do anything he wanted. She would be able to crush him otherwise. But, if he was willing to put in all the time and effort (and money, since he had to provide for Lila) there must be some way.

There was a missing puzzle piece, she knew it. She just needed to find it somehow.

Unfortunately, when one's boss is Gabriel Agreste, there are few things they can do to get past the extreme security measures implemented around his house. Lila was no amateur at breaking into places, but Gabriel's place really was ridiculously guarded, with face-sensors and tall iron gates. It'd be near-impossible to get to any clues in there, if there were any in the first place.

She would have to sit on it. Luckily, she had all the time in the world...

“You seem like you're doing very well, Nerezza.” The nurse, who'd finished checking up on Lila, smiled. “I think you can be out of here in a few days if you're lucky. We've treated all the outer problems and prescribed you pain meds for the broken rib. However, once you get discharged...” The nurse went on to explain how Lila must not strain herself or do any activities that could hinder the healing process. Lila nodded along dutifully while keeping her irritation inside. _Just leave already, I get it. Or do you want to be the next lamb?_ The mental threat to the chattering nurse made Lila feel slightly better, even if she knew she wouldn't follow through with it. She couldn't waste time when the ladybug was so close. The first thing she'd be doing out of the hospital would be looking online for articles. Surely they would have some from the night of her failed attack...? If Lila could just get the ladybug's name, the rest would be easy pickings.

The time was coming closer and closer for Lila's full revenge.

 


End file.
